Blood Ties
by squeekness
Summary: Book three of my Children of the Gods series. Secrets are revealed when Logan finally gets to meet the ones who took him. They aren't who he expects.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Book three of my Children of the Gods series. Secrets are revealed when Logan finally gets to meet the ones who took him. They aren't who he expects.

Rated M for language and some minor sexual content.

Disclaimer : I do not own the X-men or any of their associated villains, but all of the Siskans, the members of the Red Team besides Kyle, any of the characters that are involved with the Twilight dimension are mine. Please do not use them without my permission. Thanks. :)

This is an illustrated work and the art is or will be available soon on my website which you can get to by clicking on my profile. This book will have four chapters, a new one each week if all goes well. The updates to this and the rest of the series will come faster as I get the polishing work on the last book completed.

(One)

Daken Akihiro, second in command to one of the most powerful men on the planet, walked through the halls of The Diamond Complex quite at ease with himself. And why shouldn't he be? He might have been born an orphan but he now had wealth of all imaginable kinds at the ready. He was free of those things that could paralyze normal men – mortality, poverty, the need for long term relationships. He was the most unencumbered person he knew and it sat very well on him indeed.

While most men might have found the Spartan design of the mainly underground complex to be bleak and uninviting with its cold, barren walls and never ending floors and levels, it suited him just fine. Aesthetics had never been much of a concern to him in the past nor in the present. Why decorate when you might be sent out the next day on a mission never to return back here again? If any outsider happened to discover this place it would be burned by its powerful owner and the crew would simply move on to the next place and then the place after that. Daken, being a high end agent and enforcer for his Master was more mobile than many of the others here as it was so there was nothing in the boring decor here to rob him of his current high spirits.

This day's work had gone quite well, he was thinking. It hadn't been an easy request his Master had made of him - to collect not only one of the most notorious and dangerous X-men of all time, the infamous Wolverine, but also Remy's whole team as well. But that was okay, Daken loved challenges. He thrived on them in fact.

He had been trained for this kind of life from the moment of his tumultuous birth. Orphaned from the moment he had been cut from his dying mother's body, his new Master had collected him quickly. Daken had spent every day since either training in military style camps or, once his education had been completed, out in the world doing his Master's bidding. He had traveled far and wide and seen a great many things.

The man who had come to claim Daken for his own was unlike any other the lad had ever known. His name was Romulus and he was powerful both physically and in world wide influence. He had always been so and he carried himself with the authority of the truly untouchable. If anyone who had ever dared to challenge him survived to talk about it, it was a well kept secret. So far as Daken knew, his great champion had never fallen. Romulus was everything Daken aspired to be – intelligent, wealthy, and the fear of many.

Romulus had grand plans and kept them as no secret from Daken. Romulus believed that even among mutants there was a master race, that there was a mutant trait to be cherished above all others. Forget telekinesis, telepathy, the ability to fly, or even the mastery of magnetism. No, feral healers like Logan and Daken had been around longer than all of them and of those healers, Romulus was by far the oldest surviving one. Romulus believed that these particular ferals were the most special – he admired their toughness and durability – and he, being the eldest, felt he had the right to not only name his kin as Lupine, but also to manage these Lupine as he saw fit. He would be the one to guide them through history to their collective destiny. He was well suited to do this in his eyes because for him the rise and fall of Roman Empire had been but a blip in his own personal time line. He was older than Troy, Nero, Jesus Christ and the Vikings. Who could possibly possess more wisdom? That most of the Lupine had no actual or personal knowledge of his guidance meant nothing to him. He preferred his anonymous power mongering, it was safer that way.

To do this of course Romulus had be organized and so over the years the clandestine training camps he favored had been created. It was here that Daken was raised. The camps at first had been rough for young Daken. They hadn't been much better than any prison full of rowdy, snarling convicts thirsty for blood with each man looking out only for himself, but it had made him a scrapper, wilful and strong. Suffering was dished out in regular helpings, all the better to cull the weak from the strong. Starvation, thirst, cold and intense pain were nothing now to Daken and they had only fueled the fires burning deep inside of him. He was if anything, a survivor.

He did have Romulus'personal favor on his side but even that came with a price. Any personal attention the man gave him always came with lessons. As a teacher of the fighting arts, Romulus was strong and powerful and he never held back. When they sparred, Daken would often limp away or crawl into bed that night, hurting from head to toe in spite of being a healer. The blows came heavy and the words harsher still but Daken walked away from it harder than he had been the day before. He was tempered steel, hard as nails.

Even with Romulus giving him extra attention, Daken still had to earn his place amongst the others who had been there with him. He won more fights than he lost and was quick to punish his betters in any clever way that might present itself. Romulus collected these men and women of feral predispositions and instilled in them an enjoyment of the fight for place and prestige. Competition for standing had been bred into them from the beginning and so it was at the camps. Romulus had endless years of entertainment watching them. Everyone was clawing and fighting for the best food, the best rooms, and the best mates.

Best mates indeed. Romulus took his control of the collective Lupine so seriously he at times engineered who might breed with whom amongst the best Lupine males and females in his possession. He had of course insisted that Daken do his duty as it were, once Daken had gained proper age and high enough position, and the man had complied without much fuss. He was no father, though, and he wouldn't think twice about killing his own progeny if he or she stood in his way of something he wanted. Daken simply plowed the fields his Master had commanded him to and moved on, taking as many missions as Romulus could provide whatever they might be.

Romulus had plenty of those. There was always an assassination or serious injury to be performed, data collection to make and pass on to the relevant parties, money transfers, compromising photos to be taken. Romulus was all about politics, the manipulation of men and governments. He had proven talented at manipulation and at gathering the wealth it took to fund this vast empire he had created. He wanted for nothing and more often than not, got his way in anything he desired politically or financially.

Over the years Daken proved himself well suited to Romulus' demands of this life as super spy and assassin as were many of his similarly talented compatriots, but he had been especially gifted. Not all the ferals that had been collected by his Master possessed the prized secondary mutation of rapid healing as he had. It gave him an edge he had been sure to exploit as he had clawed and chewed his way all the way to the top.

Playtime and sports were for other lads. As soon as Daken could properly hold a gun he had been taught to shoot. Knifeplay and archery soon followed and then the sword. The sly delivery of various poisons came next and hand to hand combat. Whatever he was miserable at he kept working on, doing it again and again in endless drills and drills until he was the undisputed master at the craft. Imperfection of any kind was not allowed, not in his own mind. He wasn't satisfied until he got it absolutely right.

Ferals came in many shapes and sizes. Their talents varied. Daken had been lucky that the heavy fur and clawed fingered mutations had passed him by while leaving the much more generous traits intact. The bone claws in his arms were the perfect carry on weapons, easily concealed. His sense of smell and hearing were sharp and clear. He could track and hunt with the best of them. He could move silently, circling around his prey until it was too late. He was no clumsy random killer, he was the ghost you never saw until the last second before you died. He could read a person's body language and reveal their secrets without them ever having to share a word.

The camps Romulus had devised for his purposes were located in many diverse locations, allowing for training in various climates and terrains. Desert, mountains and beaches, all were made to serve. In the early years, the hardest locations for Daken to train in had been forested areas. They called to him, you see, the trees and the snow. He would sometimes sneak out of his cabin into the still and quiet, hearing the very land sing to him in words no normal human could ever possibly hear.

It wasn't long before Romulus had noticed this tendency, in fact it had been the point. "That is not for the likes of you," the powerful man had advised him. But Daken had known of others of his kind who had simply vanished in the night to be rarely seen again. He had been repeatedly sent to collect more than one of them, including John in particular who was a frequent offender. Daken had found the crazy old man strangely fascinating, but Romulus had much to say about him. "John is weak. Look at his white skin, his white hair. That is weakness. That is frailty. That is separation from the world which holds everything truly worth having. That will never be you if you are truly strong enough to grab your destiny with both hands. I keep him around so that you and the others can see what true weakness is."

It was a lesson Daken had taken to heart. The training he had received over the years had paid off. He rarely felt the tug of the trees these days, he only vanished when he chose not to be found by the authorities and then most often into the more readily available urban environments. He also didn't suffer from red feral blackouts caused by pain or pure rage as other Lupine did. The camps had done a good job of training that out of him, a definite advantage.

The camps had also taught him how to be properly emotionally detached. It had been drilled into him that friends and family were a liability that enemies could exploit and Daken took that notion very seriously. He held great respect for his Master, but as for the rest of his Lupine kin, he could care less. He could see any of them fall by his own hand or another's and not lose one wink of sleep over it. He wore that lack of empathy like a badge of honor and it wouldn't have been hugely surprising to any of his kin if he were to go out on a mission and simply never come home again. There was nothing in this Complex or any other that Romulus might own to force him back against his will.

That separation carried over into his personal relationships, or lack thereof. Not that he was denied sexual pleasure, no of that he had his fill. He just looked at the other humans around him as single serving meals to be enjoyed and then discarded. True love was something he had never experienced and now after so many long years, was most likely emotionally impossible for him. If taking sexual advantage of someone helped out on a mission, then so be it and well, it was all gravy for him. That sentiment carried over to partners of either gender. The women were fun, but the men were prey of another sort. While he wasn't physically cruel, it gave him a certain pleasure to use their fear of being outed against his victims. It was the best form of manipulation he had in his arsenal and he never failed to use it if the opportunity presented itself.

Weapons training, physical skills, sexual exploitation – he had mastered them all and added those cards to his deck of tricks. He was also a great forger. It was he who had planted the note in Logan's cabin for Remy to find. He had been given samples of Logan's handwriting and he had practiced them enough that writing in Logan's hand was as familiar as writing in his own. It had certainly worked, Remy had returned with his team in record time. Everything had gone according to plan.

In the here and now, Daken moved past the checkpoints of the Diamond, inwardly pleased as all he passed bowed in submissive deference to his much higher rank. Most of the workers here were male as the Lupine were most definitely a male dominated society. Few women ever rose in rank and those that did were most often out in the field doing similar work as Daken. Many of the men here on watch duty were of a lesser quality Lupine than himself and Daken barely paid them any mind. They were beneath him. Men of his caliber were the ones who did the real work and reaped the real rewards. The rest were lazy slobs and unfit for more than their meager lot.

The men he had passed had also been for the most part faceless to him. The Lupine under Romulus' direct control, like most military forces, had most of their individualism trained out of them. The team came first and all orders must be obeyed. Conformity was everything and to that end they all had the same short haircuts and wore the same uniforms. Only the highest ranking field workers were allowed any kind of personalized clothing or fashion. Daken, always one to push boundaries, had taken it as far as any could, choosing for himself the wild haircut and extreme tribal tattoos. It had been his value to Romulus that had allowed him to get away with it. They were supposed to blend in, not stand out in a crowd. Daken, when he chose to reveal himself, got noticed easily.

Daken made his way to his living quarters and used an electronic keycard to open his door. There were no keys here, security was too tight to allow for anything that could be stolen and copied so easily. His rooms were as spare as the rest of the place. Inside was a simple double bed (he did like to sprawl in his sleep), a desk and a closet to hang what few clothes he had brought here. Everything was disposable to a man like him. He was a light traveler - moving a lot will do that to you - there was nothing in particular that was personal to him here except for a small laminated poster with these words on it, "I swear by my life and my love of it, that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another to live for mine," a nod to Ayn Rand, the author of Atlas Shrugged and the anthem for the Objectivity movement. It fit him well for he cared about no one besides himself.

Here at the Diamond and the other Complexes like it that Romulus used, there was only disposable clothing and boots, nothing personal. He never took anything with him when he traveled, it could all be acquired on the run, paid for by Romulus' endless wallet. One never knew when you had to drop everything and bolt, fleeing the scene of an assassination or if he might spot a juicier target. He was quite adept at a sudden change in plans.

This was not to say that he didn't enjoy the finer things in life. Camp life had been tough but it had been worth it once the missions had been given to him. Travel came with real rewards – money at first and then high class accommodations. The lack of supervision allowed him to wander and he discovered a love for loud music clubs filled with crowds of humans to exploit as he saw fit. How he loved the pretty women and the men as well. He soon grew a weakness for fast cars, expensive hotels, those throw away sexual partners, and gourmet food. But that was for Outside, for when he was Working. For that he had several nice apartments scattered around the country and the world.

There was only one thing Daken wanted in this world that he could not currently acquire with ease – to step up and take the Master's place at the helm when the time came. It wouldn't be soon, but then the Master was lately starting to show signs of his extreme age. The walk was slower, the hair growing whiter without the help of his long ago dalliances with going Bree. There would be some intense competition for that highest position but Daken had little doubt he would eventually win. The challenge would be so worth it.

Daken wasn't here in his quarters for rest though he was a little tired from the day's exertions. Instead he stripped off his bloodied clothing, tossed them into the trash, and stepped into a large shower, the only true amenity to these rooms. It was a cavern, big enough for six people and all gleaming white tile and glass. He was almost obsessively fastidious when he wasn't bloodied by work, something Romulus had also drilled into him. A clean body left no evidence of itself for others to find. Like most ferals his skin was especially sensitive to touch and the steaming warm water felt like an old lover caressing his body as it sluiced down his sides, coming down around his feet tinged slightly red as it cleansed him. What a glorious day this had been.

The soap and warm water brightened the ink he had decorated his body with. There were the tribal stripes yes, but keeping them company on his back was a large elaborate, snarling dragon. Daken could at times be willful when out from under Romulus' thumb and like John was known to disappear for a day or two. He wouldn't take to the woods, he preferred more urban distractions and a few years back, one especially drunken and rebellious weekend in Madripoor had resulted in this bright new decoration. While he was a healer, it wasn't impossible for him to get fully intoxicated. It required a great many bottles of well aged Scotch, maybe a snort or two of heroin or cocaine, with a bed full of high paid hookers as a chaser. He woke the next morning partially inked with no clue how it had even gotten there. He might have been embarrassed at his lapse, but when Romulus scowled at it in deep disapproval, it only encouraged the younger man to get what had been so hastily and clumsily applied improved and finally completed by someone a bit more professional. Since then Daken added on to it whenever he had the opportunity. At the moment he had almost one half of his body covered but he guessed that it was only a matter of time before he had the rest treated as well.

Truth be told, the large dragon tattoo was the one and only possession of his that he truly treasured. It fed his vanity, making him feel powerful and invinclible. That one sign of rebellion spoke of more to come, he had every intention of challenging Romulus for power in the future. Daken had the idea that Romulus not only expected this, he actually encouraged it in subtle ways. Romulus wanted strong men in his command, not simpering suck ups. These small signs of independence hadn't gone punished, an unspoken approval.

As he washed, he mused over the new and interesting friends he had made this day. Logan had been a particular challenge though it had gone much easier than he had thought it might. Mighty X-man indeed. When Daken had first been told of Logan's existence he had expected to find a powerful alpha male, a distinct and noteworthy challenge. How Romulus had gone on and on about what a mighty warrior Logan was. His skill was without measure, his stubbornness, his unwillingness to give up any fight. These were no mere recitations from confiscated files, Romulus claimed to have known the man personally in the distant past and couldn't stop from letting his admiration seep through his words. It had been a privilege to be the one finally tasked with bringing Logan in.

Daken was very interested in what challenges Logan might present to him and he had done his due diligence, watching film and reading whatever he could find on the man. He and Logan had never met face to face in spite of being active out in the world at the same time. Daken had glimpsed them man from afar once and had certainly seen the damage he was capable of, the blood and mayhem. This wasn't going to be that easy. Daken had been bored at the time Romulus had asked him to do this, not finding any recent missions to be memorable at all and he was ready for some real action, something he might actually savor for a while. A real fight, something he would have to plan and work at.

To Daken's shock and surprise, what he had gotten instead was a tired old man. Logan's lingering sadness over his disastrous mission had made it easy for Daken to spur him to fight and lure him out into the woods. He was easy enough for Daken to track, the stink of old booze and spent cigars had nearly been overpowering. The man had been half Bree judging by the scent of his inner distress, struggling with the need to run and yet, he had stayed. Daken was aware the man had a family, but Daken's jaded spirit simply couldn't understand why it would be enough to anchor anyone. All it did was make them weak and it showed - once Daken had Logan out in the woods and alone it had been all too easy to drug him by darts and take him down.

Remy's team had been more of a handful. The team had been larger than he had expected and the Siskans had been a surprise. Zander's unexpected tactic of swordplay had at least been a welcome distraction from the banality of Kyle's feral slashfest. Kyle had fought like most of the other low class Lupine had at the camps –- growl, swipe with the claws, bite - wash, rinse, repeat - the reason why they were so easily bested. Kyle had left no more impression on Daken than yesterday's dirty socks. One had to be unpredictable to excel in this place.

But Zander, well, the sword fight had been something out of the ordinary. So few people even knew the art, though clearly Zander still needed some real training to ever match his own well honed talent. Romulus had once laughed at Daken for wanting to learn the weapon but Daken was one who wanted to know as much as he could about any sort of martial art. So few people took the time to know it and well, it had paid off for him. It had made him a better fighter, giving him a new level of grace and poise. Daken couldn't help but wonder if the Master would benefit from keeping the pair of Siskans around, if only to discover the full range of their uses.

Zander hadn't been the only surprise. Gryfon had been something unexpected as well. Daken thought back on that one kiss they had shared and felt a familiar heat warm him. Sure, the kiss had come about under his own powerful influence, but he had liked the taste of it, of the wildness of the man. Ferals just tasted better, it was the simple truth. They were all kindred spirits to Daken's own inner beast and they knew each other in so many secret ways that words could never hope to express. Too bad he had been so easy to take down in the end.

Daken was so much more than simply a feral healer who had enhanced senses. He had another hidden talent. It was similar to Remy's empathy but instead of being a mental ability, Daken's was chemical. He could use his body's own pheromones to influence the emotions of others. It wasn't without limits, his power was best used skin on skin for sexual coercion or to spike the rage in unstable people. The weaker the will of the victim, the more easily they could fall under his spell. This was a latent talent that he first discovered while a teenager in the camps. It had come on with puberty. The camps had been divided by gender and while unauthorized breeding was forbidden (violators were severely punished), whatever the kids did to get by with themselves was overlooked. There could be nothing worse than a bunch of hormonally challenged teenagers that fought for position within the ranks, it was inevitable that certain weak willed boys got targeted at night for more than just sleeping. Daken learned quick that he had no desire to be the one overpowered and while he wasn't the strongest lad, he had that ace up his sleeve to make sure that he was always the one on top and not the one being forced. He could ensnare and persuade his victims to do as he pleased, humiliate and humble them at will, the sense of empowerment the bigger draw and thrill than the sexual release that would follow.

Romulus, ever watchful, found himself fascinated by this unexpected secondary mutation. He had wanted to test this skill in labs and with doctors but in that one thing Daken was most unwilling. He could tolerate a lot, but being probed and prodded? No way. That was for the lesser Lupines his Master might toy with. He was valuable enough that Romulus didn't push the issue, he just sat back and watched. Watched and catalogued this knowledge for later.

Daken himself enjoyed watching his victims fall under his sway. It made certain aspects of his covert work so much easier. Daken wasn't primarily homosexual, but he wasn't that picky about his pleasure either. As was mentioned earlier, if he could seduce and then blackmail a more reluctant fellow after an unfortunate sexual slip that the guy had never known he might be capable of, so much the better. Amazing what some fellows would do to keep that sort of thing hidden. They would lie to their bosses, steal confidential files Daken wanted, even hand over large sums of money. What a wonderful and glorious thing this skill was and well, if Daken happened to get his own pleasure out of it, so much the better.

Of course it didn't always work. Daken had found it odd how the pheromones that had played so well with the emotionally unstable Gryfon hadn't worked on Aiden or Zander at all though he certainly had tried. All attempts to anger them during their fights or to seduce them had had no ill effect on the pair though there had been a sort of willingness to play along on Aiden's part, at least as far as wordplay went. There was something interesting going on with those guys that he was eager to discover. He couldn't wait to find out more, especially since Aiden at least was willing to play along. Daken liked puzzles and challenges.

These Siskans, so very different. They fascinated him so they did. His Master had some intel on them courtesy of his multitude of spies, but it hadn't done them justice once seen in person. Daken couldn't help but be fascinated. He had never met artificial people before - at least that was what the spies had claimed they were - and it could explain why his organic persuasions hadn't worked on them. This pair had seemed so lifelike and real he would have questioned that assessment had it not been for their lack of heartbeat and smell. Their blood hadn't been like blood either, more like syrup or the lubricating oils used in cars. Sabretooth had written a small dossier on them for Romulus that Daken had read. It pertained to Kimble in particular, since he was the Siskan Creed had known best, so Daken couldn't help but wonder how accurate it was. Sabretooth was such a simple brute that he simply couldn't be trusted to do anything right.

Daken would get his chance to find out more about all the day's captives, he had orders to clean up and then join his Master for the interrogations to follow. It was going to be great fun getting to know Logan and Kyle that much better. Their short time spent together during this chase had been far too little for Daken to get the true measure of either man. Daken wanted to see why his Master was so interested in them, they certainly hadn't impressed him much with their easy capture. He had expected a much harder fight.

Daken had no sooner left the steamy comforts of his shower when he heard his intercom chime. He was in no rush as he made his way over and answered it. "Yes?"

"I want you downstairs in the detention in ten minutes," Romulus ordered in his gruff low growl. "Our guests will soon be waking."

"On my way," he answered, already smiling. This was going to be entertaining at the least and he didn't want to miss it.

**(break)**

Once again Remy came awake slowly, coming out of some deep dark cloud to hazy reality. This time he didn't get the benefit of a lovely happy dream to raise his spirits along the way. This was just all fog and sickness, his stomach not having enjoyed this particular ride one bit. With waking came the ironic yet pleasant knowledge that he was in fact still alive, but then he also remembered that he was still a captive and that he had to do something about it and fast. This was beyond ridiculous already. The longer they were held prisoner, the greater the chance that some of them wouldn't make it back at all. This was no fairy tale reality where all things ended nice and neatly, this was the real world where children died as easily and messily as grown men.

Remy was pissed, he didn't like not having control of his situation. He thought back on his responsibilities to the team, on keeping them alive. He was failing them, he couldn't help but think. They weren't even on the train anymore, this should never have gotten this far. Who knew where they hell they were now? What a nightmare.

Remy had been advised by his betters that since he was now an official team leader it was his primary job to keep the team alive when they were out in the field. He had to keep constantly focused. He might even have to make that agonizing decision that could lead someone to their death. Logan had spelled it out in his usual blunt and sometimes overly dramatic fashion by saying – "You may have to sacrifice one of your team – even one of your precious Siskans– to save the rest. If you can't do that, then you can't lead." To avoid that from ever coming to pass, Remy had his team drill and drill, honing their skills. Not that he had told the kids any of that, of course. But it never hurt to be over prepared.

Logan had also counseled Remy about getting too emotionally attached to his team, something else the Thief had failed miserably at. He couldn't help it, they were all such a great bunch of kids. He couldn't bear the thought of losing any one of them. Now that they were in the shit, Remy knew with all seriousness that this was not a game.

Still Remy shouldn't have been all that surprised that today's events had happened. This was the job he had signed up for, new team or not. You could go months without incident and then without warning crap just happened. Normally, there was a certain junkie thrill that came with this job (though you might as well call it community service, since he wasn't exactly paid big money for risking life and limb doing this) that he was hopelessly addicted to, that first rush of adrenaline that came when there was work to be done. It was different when it wasn't practice or drills, when he got to go out and maybe save some lives for real, the only real payoff to what he did. That rush hadn't come today because that first moment of joy -"Yay, I Get To Go Out and Legally Bash The Skulls Of A Few Deserving Bad Guys!" - had been so rudely bypassed, sending him directly to "Having To Get The Kids Out Of Trouble". It had been a while since he was in any real danger, not since that mission to Twilight, and even then he had been still largely in control of his own fate. It hadn't been a life or death situation. Not like this.

Gambit forced his eyes open and was grateful that this go around there was more light to see by. He was on a cold cement floor with no vibrations to indicate they were still moving. He could make out that there were people sized lumps all around him in this room, he wasn't alone. Their shines told him that he was still with his team. To his great relief, wherever they were now, they had been moved together.

Practicalities called for him to be happy that they were all still here, but it was fatherhood that got him up on his elbows, all the better to make sure that Julien was close by. He was right beside him in fact, as though their captors had known they were in some way related and needed to remain close to one another. Remy couldn't stop himself from running his hands over the lad, checking for injuries that might have occurred during this latest chemically induced blackout. There were none and realizing that Julien was still fast asleep, he couldn't help but pull him up close and hold him tightly for a moment, his ear to Julien's chest. He wanted to hear the heartbeat, proof that all was still well. Julien would never have allowed so tight an embrace if he had been awake, he never let Remy touch him without a fuss.

"I cain't waits.. fer the day.. when he lets ya do that fer reals..." Remy heard Kimble say in a hoarse, tired whisper from somewhere nearby.

Relief again flooded Remy's mind to hear his favorite Siskan's voice and he looked up and around, trying to figure out where it had come from. Some of his happiness faded when he realized that while the shines of most of his team were close, they hadn't all been placed in the same cell together as he had first supposed.

Remy and his team had been removed from the train and placed in a large detention room with cells that faced one another across a narrow hallway. He wasn't sure just how many cells there were in this area but the ones he could see were offset in such a way that Remy could see into the two cells across from him. He could see now that the Siskans were in one cell and what looked like all the girls from his team in the other. The team had been separated by gender and origin, it seemed. Whoever had taken them had spotted the difference between the humans and the Siskans, something that Remy hadn't liked. The Siskans were fragile in ways humans weren't and easily exploited by anyone with the smarts to figure out their particular weaknesses.

"I ain't given up on dat," Remy promised to Kimble, trying not to show how much it worried him to hear Kimble's voice so weak. Something was wrong.

Remy's promise prompted him to give Julien just one more going over and this time his search came up with something new. A plastic laminated photo tumbled out of one pocket.

The picture showed a pretty blond haired girl, her face smiling and fresh, the opposite of Julien's own which still held so much pain and anger. Remy knew who this was. Her name was Kiden and she was a girl that had been rescued from Jason Frost's camp the same day Julien had been. Julien had at first insisted that Kiden had in some way belonged to him but it had been a false hope. While they had known each other from even before the camp, Kiden had loved another and once the pair had been reunited, poor Julien was back on the outside again. It seemed he hadn't yet given up on that crush. It broke Remy's heart a little. Julien showed love so rarely that it was a shame when such a beautiful object of it didn't even return that affection. Of course Remy knew a certain truth even if Julien did not – you can't force people to love you. Forcing it only made things worse. Remy wasn't sure what Kiden felt for Julien if anything, but at least she wasn't currently publically condemning or despising him like so many others. The photo Julien carried was a reprint of her Complex badge photo - she had been drafted for a team, just not the same one Julien was on.

Remy put the photo back into Julien's pocket, not wanting the boy to be upset that his pockets had been half picked. He checked the boy's pulse, growing vaguely angry that he had been drugged twice now and wasn't yet awake. He was so frail and weak compared to the others. Would this damage him permanently? Remy feared anything that might force him to bump Julien from the team, having the boy so close was the only real opportunity they had for working out just where they stood with each other. Losing this might make their reconciliation impossible.

Gambit did consider that while their captors had no doubt discovered the boy's restraining collar, they had possibly overlooked the additional tracking anklet that Julien had been forced to wear as part of his probation. Kyle, also being on probation and living in the Complex's prison, had one as well. The anklets had a certain amount of range so when the other X-men teams noticed their absence and came looking for them, Remy hoped the others could find them by it. The anklets were thin when compared to Julien's restraining collar, but were stronger than they looked and easy to miss.

"I am getting so fuckin' sick of this crap..." came a nearby complaint. Hercules, the largest kid on the team was again one of the first to wake.

"Not fair, these losers cheating like this instead of a straight up fight," one of the girls from across the way chimed in. It was Grace of course, quick with her unfailing sense of humor.

"Ze fightin' not alwaysz work out szo well," Aiden complained, prompting Remy to give him a closer look. The first thing his overly perceptive eyes noticed was the pair of shock collars, then those same eyes widened in alarm when he caught sight of Kimble's poor ruined hands. Kimble was lying on his back with his upper body comfortable in Aiden's lap, an odd reversal of how the pair had been when Remy had previously woken on the train. Kimble's hands were out in front of him though, raised up off of the floor so they wouldn't touch anything.

"What de 'ell 'appen dere?" Remy questioned sharply. The injury had happened while Remy was unconscious though he could easily guess that it was probably from Zander's attempt to break down the energy fields back on the train.

Zander proved Remy's assumption right by returning to the fore. "Leastways... I put up some kind of fight. Them fellers... is gonna knows now... they ain't gonner be takin' us easy." Zander's deep growly voice, powerful as it was, was still just as exhausted as Kimble's had been. Their injury was serious and had left them low on power. It was going to take a long time for them to recover. More time than they had here.

Aiden just shook his head and lovingly ran a hand over the pilot's cheeks, trying to coax the gentler Kimble to return. "Time for you to go, Zandair. Aiden can handle disz, me."

Zander just snorted at that. "Oh? Like ya did... back there in the woods? That was brilliant ... just brilliant, son."

Remy frowned, feeling Hercules shift from beside him. One of the things that Remy had feared most during all of their training sessions was that Zander would pop out unexpectedly and freak the kids out. Remy hadn't properly prepared them for this poor split Siskan. He hadn't had one clue how to explain Kimble's complicated personality damage and had stupidly kept putting it off instead of being honest with them as he should have. He was paying the price for that now. Hercules was growing afraid of Kimble now instead of being able to trust him. That was a real problem in any team.

Well there would hopefully be time enough to deal with that later. Right now, they needed to regain the upper hand in this situation they were now in. Time to get out of here. Maybe the Siskans could help with that.

"_**Zander? Can you do anyt'ing to get us out of 'ere? Mebbe phase?"** _Remy asked in Siskan, keeping this private. Just because he couldn't see any cameras or audio equipment around didn't mean they weren't there. He didn't want to be overheard.

Kimble, among his many other useful talents, could phase his body and become vaporous enough to pass through walls. He couldn't phase anything he was carrying or his clothing, just his body, but it could possibly be enough to get them out of this sneaky like. It wasn't that Kimble was extra special in this regard, it was simply just another telekinetic talent like he used to fly the ship. It was, however, something Zander might have had an easier time doing earlier if he hadn't been so caught up in simply using his sword to fight and defend himself with. The phasing was a passive talent, something the much bolder Zander most often left for the weaker Kimble personality to play with. The phasing ability was something the X-men kept a watch on as it could get a wayward Siskan in trouble. All the Siskans had swallowed trackers into their bodies to be kept tabs on, ones that also kept Kimble from phasing. With Remy's permission, he could always cough up the tracker and regain this useful ability.

Zander just sighed and shook his head. _**"Too weak right nows. Aiden ain't had no time ta charge up enoughs to fix me up sos I kin phase."**_

_**" 'Charge up?' "**_ Remy questioned, confused by Zander's choice of words. Something had been implied that he hadn't quite grasped. Since when could one Siskan charge up another? That wasn't something Remy knew they could do.

_**"Zandair, you should reszt now,"** _Aiden chided gently in interruption, wanting very much to change the subject. He hadn't liked where this was going.

Zander didn't care. He continued, saying, _**"Yeah, he kin charge up all by his one selfs now. Been ables to fer a long time. It's Angel what helps him."**_

That got Gambit's attention and he questioned Aiden sharply, _**"Got sumptin' you wanna confess,**_ cher?" He couldn't keep the offense out of his tone.

_**"Whatever do you mean?"** _Aiden countered, his tone saying he knew perfectly well what Remy was after. Aiden had a great many secrets, he collected them like a vain woman might collect fine jewelry. At the moment he was simply being prudent and fishing to see which particular gem Remy thought he had found out. He didn't want to give anything away by making the wrong guess.

Remy wasn't up for any of Aiden's games. He was quite serious as he replied, "_**I saw her. Our Angel, on de train just now wit you."**_

Aiden was quiet at that, not sure what to say. To say the situation was complicated was something of an understatement. He didn't know where to begin.

Zander's grin was not friendly as he taunted Aiden in English, "So ... you gonner tells him... or shall I?"

Aiden just glared at him. Kimble would have kept his secret but Zander had no such loyalty. The Punisher was unpredictable at best, outright cruel at his worst. And he hated secrets most of all.

"What's going on?" Hercules questioned with an uneasy frown. "It's not fair you guys talking in a language none of us understand."

"Dis private family business," Remy argued back without looking at the boy. His eyes were all on Aiden and demanded his answer. Part of him welcomed the distraction of Aiden's trouble in this moment of crisis, another was searching it for something they might be able to use to get out of here. Sometimes gifts came from unexpected places.

_**"I szee 'er szometimesz. Szo what?"** _Aiden's voice was soft, betraying his fear of what he thought might be happening. Angel had once belonged to Remy, not to him. No one had anticipated the bonding that had occurred between the child and Aiden at the time of her death. Aiden's guilt over his unintentional theft kept him from looking Remy in the eye.

_**" 'So what?' " **_Remy challenged sharply, his pain and anger all too real. _**"You might have wanted to mention it, fils, me being 'er uncle and all.**_" He was actually more than that though their relation wasn't by actual blood. He was as good as her second father and he had been closer to her than Aiden had. He had known her longer and had had a huge hand in her upbringing.

In Aiden's defense, he had previously mentioned to Remy that he sometimes saw echoes of the poor departed child, but that had been many long months ago. Being a very private person, he hadn't elaborated on it since. Now it had come up again and he wasn't all that comfortable with discussing something he wasn't so sure about himself.

Aiden now cringed inwardly, knowing Remy had a legitimate point. There was real contrition in his voice as he asked, _**"What you want to know?"**_

Remy sighed, exasperated now by what had been kept from him. _**"I don't know. Like is she okay? Is she even alive? In you?"**_

Aiden shook his head. "_**Non, what I szee isz not really 'er I do not t'ink. But ze szame echo we talk about zat oncze, neh?"**_

_**"That ain't all she is,"** _Zander chimed in, his shine full of amusement. He was enjoying watching Aiden squirm. The Punisher was so predatory that way.

_**"Explain**_, sil vou plait." It was a demand and not a question.

Remy already had some ideas about this himself. The Game had been complicated, with the Siskans involved each supposed to find an object of some value. The Masters who played in the Game then collected these objects – or stole them, rather, from their Siskans, depending on your point of view – supposedly increasing their power. Things got quirky for Remy when some of those objects turned out to be living things. Kimble had found Angel as an infant and raised her as his own. It wasn't until she was killed and a ball of energy released from her body that it was beyond refuting that she had never been a normal human child. Aiden ended up absorbing that energy on contact, something that denied that energy from being passed on to a Master playing the Game, in effect, ruining the Game for all players. Or for Jael anyhow, but then Jael hadn't lived long enough to bitch about it much. Because Aiden hadn't behaved all that differently after he had taken Angel's energy, it was easy to for Remy to forget that it had happened at all, but then if this child was so special, it was a mistake to think that that transfer had meant nothing. It had done something to Aiden. But was it something that could help them now or not?

Aiden just shook his head, keeping his eyes down. Aiden hated Zander bitterly in this moment, but he knew that in some way, this was still Kimble he was holding in his arms, no matter which voice was coming out. The others could never know how hard it was to look down on Kimble's perfect face and that beautiful body and know that someone else was in it. Nothing could be more horrible.

Zander chucked darkly, oblivious to Aiden's suffering. How he loved his little games. He did not share Aiden's affinity for secrets. _**"When Aiden goes outside ta charge. He's fakin' it."**_

_**"Zat is not true!"**_ Aiden argued defensively, his voice tight with exasperation. He didn't want Remy to be mad over something he himself didn't fully understand.

"_**Oh fuck yeah it is,"** _Zander challenged, happy for the distraction this little argument was providing. It made him forget some the horrible pain in his hands. He was full of the arrogant pride of any bully as he revealed, _**"You don't even needs ta charge one bit."**_

Zander was an instigator but that didn't mean he was stupid. Through watchful and careful observation he had already guessed that Angel's energy was something that Aiden retained and hadn't burnt off like the solar plasma the pair of Siskans usually fed on. Lacking energy, Kimble would begin to fade over time but Aiden could hang on far longer. Zander could not recall the last time he had even seen Aiden grow weak from lack of energy and being clever, Zander was able to put two and two together readily enough. That Aiden could actually feed Kimble himself was something he hadn't figured out until today, but now that he suspected it, he had grown more and more positive that it was true.

"_**Not true!"**_ Aiden continued to protest to no avail. The trouble with the Punisher was that once he knew something, he never let it go.

Zander just snorted rough laughter and returned in English, all the better to fully reveal what he though should never have been kept hidden, _**"**_Yer a liar and you knows it. You been livin' with secrets so damn long, you don't knows how to live withouts them no more. Cain't understand why Kimble puts up with it like he does."

"What's wrong with Kimble?" Hercules questioned Remy again, not understanding what he was hearing. They should be discussing what to do next, not watching whatever this was. He hadn't caught Remy's brief explanation to Grace back in the woods that Kimble was split. "Why is he talking about himself like that? What's wrong with his voice? What is going on?"

"Give us a minute," Remy answered, holding up a hand that demanded patience. It was asking a lot. He knew Hercules was afraid and jumpy without them having a plan and that this was only making things worse, but there were things Gambit needed to know. He wasn't sure if what was playing out here was something that could help them or hurt them if it all went badly here. He didn't like dealing with unknowns in high stress situations.

"Fils?" Remy interrupted, turning back to his boys. He wanted both a conformation of what Zander was saying but also he didn't want the Siskans to fight. It wouldn't accomplish anything here and he didn't like it. "Dis true, Aiden, or what?"

_**"Mebbe it mosztly true. At leaszt I szuszpected it may be szo. Never put it to ze teszt,"** _Aiden reluctantly conceded back in familiar Siskan, keeping his eyes down. He didn't want to argue any more himself and so was willing to compromise a little. _**"Ze szun sztill feels szo good. What doesz it matter now, eh? We muszt find a way out of 'ere."**_

_**"Does Kimble know?"**_

_**"Keem doesz not want to know," **_came Aiden's soft reply.

_**"But I sees evrathin',"** _Zander boasted. _**"Betcha ole Aiden gots lotsa things he kin do now that he ain't never toldja about."**_

Aiden just clicked his tongue in disgust and turned his head away, done with this. He was exhausted and all he wanted to do right now was get home. With all of the abuse he had taken this day, both physical and mental, he felt like he would never be fully back on his feet ever again. He just wanted to lay down in Kimble's arms and sleep, but there was no time for that now.

Remy was disappointed by the whole thing. He had always hoped he could count on Kimble to fill him in if there were any changes happening between the pair. Chances were Kimble had noticed that something was going on, but had been waiting for Aiden to talk about it when he was ready. On the other hand, the Punisher was often quite blunt about what was on his mind and the information had been to a certain degree important. The thing was, was this something they could exploit in any way**?** _**"It ain't like either one of you to hide t'ings from me. Not important t'ings like dis."**_

_**"I choosze not to dsizcussz what I do not yet understand myszelf. Not trying to causze trouble,"**_ Aiden offered, trying to placate his irritated team leader.

Remy nodded. _**"So you really don't charge from the sun?"**_

_**"I sztill do, I juszt cannot be certain 'ow much, eh?"**_

_**"And you fed Kim when 'e was low on power back on the train."** _Aiden started once more to proclaim his innocence but Remy raised a hand to stop him. _**"I saw you do it, Aiden, I just didn't understand what I was seein' is all."**_

_**"If I did szuch a t'ing, I wasz unaware,**_" was all Aiden was willing to add to that.

Remy believed him or at least enough to let it go for now. _**"We'll be talking about this later."**_

Aiden nodded, happy that he was off the hook at least for now. Whatever might be going on with his ability to charge really was irrelevant at this point. They needed to find a way out of here and fast. He was disappointed that he had let Remy down, like any Siskan his main purpose in life was to please, and that hadn't changed even though he no longer considered Remy his Master.

_**"My charje iszn't ze t'ing you should be worryin' bout moszt,"**_ Aiden tossed out, remembering something that Daken had said.

_**"And what is dat, cher?"** _Remy inquired, his tone still a bit sharp. He didn't want to play any game that Aiden might be playing to deflect his attention away from thing that did worry him no matter what Aiden might think.

_**"Daken, 'e szay 'e take you kidsz, train zem better zan you."**_

The thought made Remy bristle with possessive rage. _**"Dat ain't goan 'appen,"** _he promised, his mind moved back to the task at hand. They had to get out of here. It was at least helpful to know that Kimble might not be down for good. Given enough time, maybe Aiden could get Kimble at least mobile. Now all they needed was a plan.

**(break)**

Logan's awakening was no more pleasant that Remy's was. He came to with an abrupt snort, hit by a sudden and unwelcome discomfort. Instead of being strapped down as he had been on the train, this time his captors were making sure he had no chance of escape. He was seated, naked, on a solid metal chair with his hands cuffed behind him, the source of the agony in his shoulders. The cuffs themselves were welded to the back of the chair, denying him a position that would enable him to pop claws and cut himself free. He could saw through most anything but not if his hands were so fixed that he couldn't even budge them. He was stronger than most men, but not powerful enough to bust these cuffs on his own. His ankles were similarly cuffed to the front legs of the chair. It seemed as though they were expecting him to be there a while – the seat had a hole in it and a chamber pot was placed below. He was in trouble but at least he wouldn't have to worry about soiling himself.

He could still feel some residual fever burning there behind his eyes though the IV was gone. He did have that itch in his bones that told him he was healing from whatever poison they had given him but it was going to be slow like it was with burns. It occurred to him that he might have been irradiated, he often had trouble recovering quickly from that as well. His body was greasy with old sweat and his hair was in a dirty tangle around his ears. He was half starved and terribly thirsty.

He could vaguely recollect the train coming to a halt but he knew of nothing past that. He had no memory of being removed from the train at all. He could have fallen asleep of course, his body was being severely punished by whatever drugs they were giving him, but it wasn't like him to be that much of a light sleeper, especially when being held captive. He guessed that he had been drugged even further, another irritation in a day too full of them already.

He did have someone here keeping him company though. Daken was close by, casually leaning with his back against a wall and slicing an apple with a short knife, eating the removed portions with great enjoyment. The smell of it was wonderful, reminding Logan that he hadn't eaten in a while. It also meant he was less sick now for him to even have the tiniest semblance of an appetite. Daken had traded his camouflage outfit for much simpler white T-shirt and black jeans. If being in the prisoner lock up made him uneasy, he gave no sign.

"Welcome back, old man," Daken teased, his eyes merry. "Did you have a nice nap? I do hope you find the accommodations comfortable."

Logan just looked up at him, unamused at the weak attempt at humor, and gave him a disdainful sniff. "Heh, you don't smell like the Boss. More like...Errand Boy."

Daken smiled, not the least bit offended. Snarky comments from the imprisoned was par for this particular course and he had walked it many times. "If collecting pathetic, weak grunts like you wasn't so profitable, I'd almost be insulted by that. Did you know that Gambit's children put up a much more spirited fight than you did? You're slipping in your old age."

Logan growled at the that. Yes, he had seen Aiden and hadn't been happy about what had happened to him, but he hadn't known that the rest of the Red Team had been called out as well. This was going from bad to worse. It wasn't fair that they should get dragged into his own troubles. Well, he would be sure to put that to rights as soon as possible. "Who are you?"

Daken finished his apple and tossing the remains into a nearby trash can, clicked his tongue in mock dismay. "You really don't know, do you? I'd have thought this sort of thing might be instinctual much in the same way that the new lion that takes over the pride smells the old lion's cubs and kills them to protect his own bloodline."

"Did ya really kidnap and take me all this way just fer a National Geographic lesson, kid? I ain't got time for this crap," Logan complained, sick to death of stupid mind games. Was it really so much to ask for the bad guy to just get to the point?

"Well, if you must know. My name is Daken Akihiro," his captor finally answered, his eyes glittering as if he expected that to mean something to Logan.

It didn't. "Bully fer you. Now why don't you just take yer little Errand Boy ass and go get the big boss so we can just get this over with?"

"He's already on his way. He simply couldn't wait to see you. He favors you for some reason I can't even fathom. He actually thought I might have a hard time collecting you and well, you went down more easily than a one legged cow. He is going to be so disappointed. You are hardly worth his time. For shame."

Right on cue the door to the room opened with a dramatic clang and another man entered in, his stride purposeful and energetic. This was no ordinary man, Logan's feral senses could tell that right away. Something about the way he walked, the way he carried himself, the absolute authority of his presence as though he were a general or a King. This man was the Alpha, the boss of this little outfit, or at least certainly much higher up the food chain than Daken was. Daken bowed at him slightly acknowledging his dominance, confirming what Logan was seeing.

He was far older than Daken, grey streaked back from the long black hair at his temples and his face was marked with laugh lines and crows' feet at his eyes. His shoulders were well muscled, though, his body was still athletic and powerful. His clothing was custom, a suit with an odd military type cut to it, but if he was government, Logan couldn't tell from which branch. It certainly wasn't SHIELD.

The man's scent filled Logan's nose and it was familiar though he still couldn't recall from exactly where. It was nagging at him that he should know this man from somewhere but he was still coming up blank. Damn his unreliable memory. He didn't like it when he only had partial facts to work with. He could clearly see that there was something bigger going on here than a simple kidnap and torture.

"I see you two have finally met," the newcomer observed, his voice deep and full of teeth. "How wonderful. I am Romulus and this is one of my many homes."

The name gave Logan pause. It was now the second time he had heard it, the first time coming from John on the train. Now that Logan was a little more straight and not as strung out on drugs or poison, it rang a little deeper in his mind than it had before. Romulus. Hadn't Seth mentioned that name before? Logan was pretty sure he had.

A few weeks back when the X-men had gone after Jason Frost, Logan had won permission to take both Kyle and Sabretooth along as trackers and protection. At the mission's successful conclusion, Sabretooth had mysteriously disappeared. At the spot where he had last been seen, a strange medallion had been left. The medallion had an emblem on it – a wolf's head with three slashes across it – and Seth, being the clever Siskan that he was, had been able to track it down on the Internet. It had led him to a website where a message had been left for Logan, as if whomever had left it knew he would be able to track them down eventually. The note had read:

"_Welcome to the Lupine, Logan. I've been waiting for you a long time and I can't wait to finally meet you." _

It had been signed, Romulus, and it seemed Logan was finally meeting the man himself. Now all this mess was starting to make a little more sense. The scents, too. Logan had caught a whiff of the man from the medallion that had been left behind. Logan could reasonably guess that this was just one more pathetic recruitment drive and Wolverine didn't have to be completely sober to get what kind of mutant this asshole was looking for. First Sabretooth, then this guy John. Now himself. This guy was collecting Howletts, or at least wanted Logan to think he was. Great. He had thought these guys were a bunch of wackos back when Seth had first told him about them and he was thinking they were still a bunch of wackos now. How the times do try a fella.

"Fascinating," Logan grumbled with a disdainful sneer. "Now that we're all here why don'tcha just tell me what all this shit is about so I can tell you to go fuck yerself and then you can just let me go on my way before I kill yer ass."

Romulus squinted at the disrespect. He clearly was a man who wasn't used to such things. There was no humor in his voice as he observed, "My, you are blunt."

"I get that a lot. So? Get on with it. Spit it out."

"Very well. I invited you here today because I thought it was important that we have a little chat. There are some things you must know. "

" 'Invited?' " Logan snorted. "That's rich. Kidnapped is a whole lot closer to the truth."

"Perhaps, from your limited perspective. Despite that, I think you will like what I have to offer you."

"I doubt it, but you may as well get on with it. This is boring me already."

"What would you say if I offered you all the power in the world?"

"I'd say yer full of shit," Logan criticized sharply and without hesitation. This again? He could count on both hands all the times that some power hungry idiot tried this line on him. And they all claimed to have known him so well. "All you freaks are the same, thinking yer the most powerful Joe in the world. You'll get humbled, just you see. It happens every fuckin' time."

Daken chuckled softly at Logan's cheek but Romulus found no humor in it. He betrayed his own disbelief at Logan's inability to be impressed as he continued to persuade, "While you may be right in most cases, in this one you are not. I am the most powerful man alive."

Wolverine still wasn't having any of it. It was going to take a lot more than just words to convince him. "If that was true, then why haven't I heard of ya, huh? This is bullshit."

At that Romulus did smile. He was happy to boast, "You haven't heard of me, son, because anonymity _**IS **_power. I am the one behind the curtain, pulling everyone's strings."

Logan just shook his head. How many times had he heard similar claims? Again, too many to count. This was so very tiresome. "Assuming what you say is true – and I highly doubt it is – what makes you think I even care?"

"I've been watching you for a great many years. You've spent a long time just getting by, but lately something has changed."

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"Your sense of family. I do believe you have finally matured to the point where you and I can talk face to face at last."

Logan just glared at the man. His mind was racing – the bullshit line about talking face to face he dismissed as garbage, but the mention of family got his attention all right. There was a reason he had taken this long to settle down - he hadn't wanted a wife or kids that could be used against him. He had too many enemies for that to be practical. Now that he had finally given in to the urge to settle down, sure enough here was someone threatening what was his.

"What do you want?" he demanded, unable to keep the snarl from his voice.

"I want your attention at long last," Romulus said, smiling now. "It is time that you learned that your family is larger than you know. You are one of us, the Lupine, and we are the Children of the Gods, Inheritors of it All."

Logan's shoulders shook with his dry laugh. Oh if he only had a dollar for every time some idiot spouted off with this same kind of nonsense. It was like once one bad guy tried that line and discarded it after failing, another one just picked it up off the ground and used it again for himself. Bullshit recycling over and over again, ad nauseam. His tone was sharp with disdain as he sneered, "Do you practice that line in front of yer mirror every morning in yer little ole padded room? Sorry, bub, but yer gonna hafta do better than that to impress me."

Romulus crossed his arms and regarded Logan thoughtfully. His voice was still patient as he explained, "The Lupine are superior, the most important of all who walk this earth. We are the healers, the ones who rule by tooth and claw. There are none better."

"Yeah? And I'll bet all the other freaks like you say the same. The magnet people say their kind are the best, the telepaths right after them. Telekinetics as well. Give it up, ya overblown excuse for a tyrant. All you are is just a simple mutant, same as all the rest. There ain't one thing special about yer arrogant mutant ass. Get over it."

Logan startled when both Daken and Romulus burst into simultaneous laughter. While he had assumed they would disagree with him - they were both clearly mad after all - he hadn't expected such levity. "You do so truly amuse," Romulus replied once he had caught his breath. "And they say you have no sense of humor."

"Fantastic," Logan growled, not sharing in the lighter moment. "Look, I don't know what yer trying to sell here, but I ain't interested so just let me go. You got nothing I want."

"This isn't about what you want, but about your need to listen to what I have to say."

"Or what?" Logan snapped sharply. "What can you do to me that all those other punk ass bitches haven't been doing since the first day I ever popped claws? What makes you so fuckin' special that you even deserve one second of my time?"

"Because what I am trying to sell you, dear boy, is a chance to run with your true family and in time, perhaps, even rule them all as I do now."

Now it was Logan's time to laugh. " 'My true family'? Buddy, I don't even know you, but from what I've seen so far of how ya do things, I could care less. And why would a guy like me even want that all of your so called power? People always bitchin' and complainin' at ya. Lettin' you down." He looked at Daken in particular as he said that last, seeing him for the lackey he was. "I ain't no babysitter. I could have had authority any time I wanted it, but no thanks. Let the punk over there have it for all I care. Now why don't you just stop wasting all of our time and just let me and the kids go?"

"Yes, I noticed that about you," Romulus commented, agreeing with Logan on his lack of drive. "That is so odd, for an immortal such as yourself. Power is and always has been our best tool for survival in the long race of our lives."

Logan snorted in disgust at the man's audacity. "We ain't immortal. Sooner or later someone younger and faster comes along. It'll happen to you eventually, it always does."

"And Xavier runs his small empire any better than I?" Romulus challenged. "Was it by mere chance that you were selected to eliminate the true source of the Flush?"

Logan squinted at that, trying to hide his surprise. That mission had been top secret. Only a handful of people had even known about the true nature of what he had been asked to do. Did this guy really know all the facts about it or was he just fishing? Either way, Romulus had just revealed that he had spies in more places than Logan liked. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything, my son. You were selected because of who you are, of what you are capable of doing. It is something all of us true Lupine share. Xavier saw it in you and so do I."

The mere idea of what he had done meeting anyone's approval rubbed Logan the wrong way all over. He was angry again as he retorted, "Look, pal, whatever you think you know, it's all bullshit. A problem needed solving and it got solved. The job got done. Me bein' part of yer stupid little 'family' ain't got nothing to do with it."

"It has everything to do with it," Romulus disagreed. "We are the movers and fixers of this world. It's a familial trait, son. It's been bred into you and you've been fighting it for far too long."

Logan squinted, hearing something in Romulus' words. He kept repeating with emphasis the same words over and over again – son, family, breeding. "I ain't yer family."

"Oh, yes you are, in every sense of the word."

"Prove it," Logan finally barked, done with this.

"You've met my associate, Daken Akihiro?" Romulus questioned, his eyes bright with secret knowledge.

If there was a joke here, Logan didn't get it. "Yeah. So?"

"He doesn't recognize my name," Daken complained woefully with mock disappointment. If anything, Logan's lack seemed to amuse him that much more.

"Not at all?" Romulus asked with some real surprise. His voice was deep, guttural and his mouth flashed fangs, another show of power. "And here I had been led to believe that Jael's telepath had been of the highest quality."

Logan growled low in irritation, but kept his eyes warily on the man just the same. He was irritated by the way they were looking at him, like gleeful scientists glorying over a surprising specimen, their eyes shiny with malevolent greed. That sort of thing never boded well for the one on the exam table, healing factor or not.

He also hadn't liked the fact that Romulus seemed to know so much about him, his restored memories in particular. Though it did present a plausible explanation for why John, the white feral man on the train, might think to present himself as a long lost Howlett as a way of luring Logan in. This was getting out of hand, too much for Logan who was so very private about every aspect of his life. He didn't like all this baggage being aired out for all to see. Logan's reply was terse. "It's a common name. Akihiro is anyhow. Daken not so much. That's not the sort of thing a parent chooses for their boy, 'less they are trying to make a statement. Means 'mongrel'. Sounds more like something you chose fer yerself." He looked at the younger man, letting his contempt show clearly. "I can see yer of mixed race. I'll just bet that didn't go over so well with yer little playmates growin' up. Don't know why you'd take that name, though. You aren't gonna cry like a little girl for being _**eta**_, are ya? That would just be too sad, boy," Logan teased harshly, using the Japanese word for 'untouchable' for effect. The Japanese didn't look kindly on half breeds.

Daken bristled, he just couldn't help it. It was subtle, he had tightened his fists involuntarily and clenched his jaw hard enough to grind his teeth. It didn't last, a moment later Daken calmed himself, a sign of intense training. He smiled his cruel smile and said with saccharine sweetness, "Perhaps you might remember my mother, Itsu? You and her were quite close as I recall."

Logan froze at that, temporarily stunned as a rash of memories slammed him hard, sending a sharp stab of bright hot pain behind his eyes. It was the same as when he had met John on the train, only not as intense. He was getting used to this but that didn't mean he liked it. He didn't like getting sucker punched like this.

Logan had been brainwashed more times than he could count by various government agencies as they tried to convert him into some sort of point and shoot weapon, a mindless soulless killer. Over time bits and pieces filtered back in but he never had any sort of coherent picture of his past. It was true that all that changed when Jael's powerful telepath had forced a patch job on him, a rough repair that while crude, had succeeded where many others had failed. She had bullied past most if not all of Logan's mental blocks and opened the floodgates wide. Because the job had been so roughly done, it wasn't as though he could freely go back and sort through his life in chronological order like watching a movie. It was more like small little triggers would "remind" him of something long buried and he would get blindsided like this, body checked by a particular sight, sound, or smell and he would have a sudden brilliant recall of something out of nowhere, something usually out of context so it was difficult to sort it all out.

Itsu.

Her face came at him with its absolute perfection. He saw a tiny fishing village by some small lake somewhere in rural Japan. He had gone off the leash during a Weapon X mission and had gone into hiding. Like Kyle had been, he was resistant to a life where the military was all there was, but at least he had been a much better escape artist than poor Kyle who never seemed to make it past the next town or so. This time Logan been gone over a year and it had seemed as though they had lost him for good. He had found Itsu and they had slipped away to this tiny village where the presence of a Gai-gin, an outsider, was tolerated. They hadn't married but he could see her now, her belly huge with child - his child - her face lit up with joy at the thought of what they were soon to share. Any day now, yes, so soon, so very close.

Logan grunted as the scene in his mind abruptly shifted and suddenly the village was on fire and people were screaming. They were taking gunfire from the trees around them and while he couldn't see who it was coming from, he recalled now with perfect clarity the moment Itsu's body was riddled with bullets. He was holding her on the muddied ground, watching as the blood drained from her body. It was fuzzy then, but he remembered now someone standing behind him saying, "Time to come home, son," and then the rest was all black.

Back to reality, Logan blinked and looked up, seeing Daken's face clearly for the first time. He saw his own steel blue eyes looking out at him, but the shape of them were hers. Itsu's eyes, there staring back at him with a cold, dark hate. "Impossible..." he breathed, his skin breaking out in gooseflesh even though it was hardly cold in this room. "She was dead."

"Nothing is impossible for the Master," came the icy reply.

Logan's eyes then turned to the older man, seeing him in a whole new way. This was knowledge beyond mucking around in a few personnel files. "What the fuck did you do?"

"I told you, I keep close tabs on all my Lupine kin," came the enigmatic reply. He mistook Logan's horror for respect and was pleased by it. "I am Lord and Master of them all. I control all of their destinies and I wasn't about to let any of their valuable Lupine progeny go to waste."

Logan squinted, not sure if that was literal or not. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, Daken is indeed your son, have no doubts about that. But I am the one he calls father now."

Logan shook his head, trying to do the math. If this was true Daken would be even older than Kyle, much closer to eighty then the thirty years Daken appeared to be. Kyle, too, looked far younger than his true age, seventeen or eighteen at best. It was in that vulnerability and broken-ness that Kyle had so much trouble hiding, not to mention being half starved on a daily basis. Daken it seemed had no such imperfections. He was hardened steel, well muscled and sleek, ice cold. A weapon finely tuned and expertly crafted.

Logan shook his head, not liking where this was going. He was sure he was being lied to, manipulated. "Impossible. Itsu was full of bullets when she died. The whole village was wiped out."

Daken's cruel smile grew just a bit wider. "Itsu was dead before she even had a chance to birth me properly, and yes, I did take a bullet or two in the process, such was my introduction into the harsh realities of this life. But have no fear, I won't bore you with tears shed over that misfortune either."

Logan flinched at the poorly disguised accusation and lowered his eyes. He had nothing snarky or humorous to say about that. If not for Logan's ugly military past, Daken would never have lost his mother. Whether the fact of it was true or not, the boy in front of him certainly believed this to be the case.

Unbidden, Logan had an ugly vision of Romulus standing over Itsu's torn body, dangling his squalling infant son by one leg, looking him up and down the same way a racehorse breeder might eyeball a newborn foal, judging if he might be worthy of the care and feeding it would require to get it to run swiftly on command. The thought rolled his stomach and he swallowed heavily, not wanting the monster in front of him to see it. This could all be one big string of bald faced lies, he couldn't allow himself to moved by something that hadn't yet been proven.

Romulus wasn't finished. "You have another son as well, I believe. Carter, isn't it?"

Logan bristled with renewed anger. Progeny, that was what Romulus had said earlier. It was such a loaded word and it included Carter as well as his sisters. Logan didn't like that, not one bit. He would die before he sat back and let this monster lay a hand on any of them. "You mention my son again and I will gut you from stem to stern!"

Romulus just chuckled, unafraid. "You have many true born Lupine children, that is good. Daken, Carter and perhaps this other – Kyle Gibney, is it? Well, we'll have to put that to the test of course."

It wasn't the first time Logan had heard Kyle referred to as his own kin. They were not actually blood related of course, but since Kyle had been genetically altered using a serum of both Logan's and his half brother Sabretooth's DNA, Kyle might as well be. He carried most of their dominant mutations - the enhanced senses, the healing and the claws.

Logan didn't like where any of this was going and he was done with it. He jerked in his chair, testing his restraints. He was beyond furious now and it was a great motivator. Unfortunately, he was locked down tight and not going anywhere.

"It must be quite debilitating," Romulus continued, unfazed by his prisoner's wrath. "..living with such a fractured memory. We had no idea the effects would be so lasting."

"We?"

"As I've said, I've had a hand in many of things life has dealt you. I was there for Weapon X just as I was for Itsu's demise. We've known each other a long time, you and I. This is more of a reunion of sorts, rather than a first meeting."

"Fuck you," Logan retorted, still not buying what this man was saying. One look in his eyes and Logan could see the guy was completely mad. They say your mind goes with age and well, here was the proof standing right here. "Yer crazy if you think I'll believe a word you say."

Romulus just laughed at Logan's response. It meant the man was actually listening. "You have a lot to think about. Add this to your thoughts – both Victor Creed and your brother John are here as well."

"John ain't my brother, you sick fuck," Logan denied bitterly though he had no proof either way. It was the way Romulus was listing his pedigree as if it was supposed to mean something. It certainly wasn't going to make Logan do whatever this guy might command.

"John is your brother, that is a fact," Romulus insisted calmly. "You see, Thomas, your father, was one of mine. His mother, knowing he was too weak to be truly Lupine, saw to it that he made it out and away from me. I killed her for it of course, but as for Thomas, I let him stay free. Sometimes one needs to do that, you know. Send out the lesser ones to see what they produce. A fisherman with his hooks, looking to see what treasures he might snare. I was lucky, while he was a poor specimen of our kind, you and John, well. They were the best gifts a grandfather could have. Victor was a treasure as well."

"Liar!" Logan spat.

"There are others here, as well, cousins and distant relatives you have not met. You have more true family here than anywhere else. This is where you belong. It wouldn't be any trouble to collect your other children from Arizona if you wished it. One big happy family."

"Never!" Logan snarled, horrified at the thought.

"You are one of us, like it or not. The Lupine are all. We kill and we rule and we manage the human herd, just as you have done all your life. What I am trying to offer you is a shot at being a part of this pack and this empire. My retirement, while not imminent, is at least on the horizon. Seems fitting I should at least make you aware that you have a crack at taking it all. You would have to compete with all the others in that line, of course, Daken and Victor included."

"What?" Wolverine questioned sharply. While being offered a throne he didn't want wasn't all that unusual these days, being told that he was included in a long and powerful queue for it was something else entirely. It suggested that there would be many great bloody battles to come, something he had no desire to take part in.

Romulus misunderstood Logan's surprise. He repeated, "Oh yes, Victor is here, right where he belongs. We took him right out from under you with ridiculous ease and he has been quite happy ever since. As I've said, nothing happens without my knowledge. Twilight sounds like an interesting place."

Logan was alarmed by that question in a whole new way. It was bad enough that Romulus had taken the smaller Dragon craft with its alien tech inside, this guy having access to Twilight would be worse. Twilight was a pocket world, you had to have a special key to make the doorways to get there. Jason Frost had been lucky enough to find one and use it to steal the strange secrets of that land. Of course it wasn't exploitation that had Logan so worried. After the mission to take Frost down, the X-men had left some of their people there and went back and forth. Conventional phones were useless of course, those people would have no warning if this freak actually found a way there and back again. The X-men had been lucky enough to have Simone, a Siskan who was talented in so many ways to ferry them back and forth. Simone was so much more than simply Rogue's personal housekeeper and bed warmer – his Angel had been a trans-dimensional doorkey that had come pre-installed by his creator, Quishnalay. The X-men had taken advantage of this, something Sabretooth had been aware of. Now it seemed the asshole had been spilling all. This was getting worse all the time.

Logan, wishing to deflect away from whatever perils that may or may not actually exist, simply showed his teeth and threatened, "You want to send yer guys after me, than lets stop wastin' time and just have at it. I'd be happy to thin yer little pack down for you and grin all the while as I did it."

"In due time. Now at least you know the opportunity exists. The others will come for you, make no mistake. Whether you choose to remain with us or not you are still well known in the world. The others will see you for the alpha male you are and will come for you and your top spot, one way or another. I will give you some time to mull it all over, it's a lot to process, I know. In the meantime your son and I will see about young Kyle and discover if he is all he should be. It will be very entertaining, at the least."

".".".".

(Author's note - Howdy! Just in cast there are some of you who complain that I am obsessed with bi-sexual men and slash – even though it is clearly true– there is actual precedence for it in the case of Daken, or at least as it suits his purpose. This tendency was clearly spelled out in Dark Wolverine #75. So there, lol...)


	2. Chapter 2

(Two)

Hank stood as he was, humming softly to himself as he worked. He had just finished setting poor Warren's broken arm. The guy was still unconscious, making the task all the easier. It had been a bad break, whomever had injured him had clearly been very skilled at what he had done. Fallen didn't have the space for an x-ray machine here on board, but she did have an ultrasound device that was just as helpful in this. At least the setting of the bones had been less of a delicate task than digging the bullets out of Gryphon's back. Hank had also set enough broken bones in his time that he could practically do it in his sleep. Knowing that a surgery might be required once they got back home, Hank used an air cast to hold the shattered bones in place rather than plaster.

That done, Hank moved on to his next task. Along with the evidence collected from the white truck at the train station he had also been given what had been collected from Logan's cabin.

Logan's field reports had been disturbing to read, that much was certain. It had always rankled Hank some that it seemed like Logan was often misused when something a little more dirty was required to solve a particular sticky situation. With such a dire loss of life, part of Hank could understand why it was that such an extreme sanction had been called for in the case of removing the source of the Flush contagion. It was just a shame that it had turned out to be a child being exploited. Nothing burned Hank more than the mistreatment of mutant children. Bullies, the world seemed to be filled with an endless supply of those.

Hank was interested in more than Logan's profanity filled reports. He was now taking a nice long look at the odd medical patches Logan had removed from Marcus. While they were labeled for medical use, Hank didn't recognize the company logo. He had a feeling it was bogus anyways, it wasn't the first time he had run into something like that. Some of the patches had been used, others were still sealed and new. Hank was familiar with this kind of medical patch of course, having prescribed them himself from time to time for diabetes and the like. These new ones were not so obviously marked for their use but guessing by Logan's reports, Hank could surmise their purpose. Even though the Flush wasn't generally fatal to mutants, long term exposure could be a potential hazard and Marcus had had a good number of these patches both on his skin and spares in his pockets. If they had been intended for a more common medical use, they would have been marked as for such with legitimate factory labels.

Hank lamented the fact that while the Lucky Dragon was well stocked, it didn't have as comprehensive a medical lab as he had back home. If indeed these patches could offer some resistance or relief to the Flush, he would very much like to try them on Warren, the man's fever was much too high and not dropping. Hank had resorted to placing several gel ice packs along Gryphon's body to keep it from climbing too high. Hydration and keeping him cool were the most important things, Hank knew. The Flush besides, there was always a danger of infection with the gunshot wounds so he had given the man an anti-biotic as well. But, as tempting as it was, to try something like these patches without being certain of their use was just too risky.

As if taunting Hank, red patches had already begun to form on Warren's pale skin, the sign that this was indeed a Flush infection. Should he dare? Suddenly inspired, he used a syringe to extract some of the material from one of the patches and after placing it on a glass slide, looked at it using a small high powered microscope Fallen was blessed to have here on board. His time spent assisting the CDC with the Flush virus paid off quickly. He recognized what he was looking at was in fact some kind of anti-body. It was too much of a coincidence for it be for anything other than the Flush, Marcus had been so directly exposed to its true source. But was that enough for him to dare using it on Gryfon? What if Marcus was sick with something else? If he was so bold, he would at least have to save one to copy, to possibly reverse engineer for the general public. The world was going to need it if there were more of those dirty bullets out there. It was best to save all the patches, most mutants survived a Flush infection and Gryfon was certainly a mutant. It was the humans Hank was worried about.

The good news was that so far Hank and the others were symptom free. He couldn't impress upon the others enough to report any or all signs that any of them might be getting sick and so far no one had claimed to be feeling off. It hadn't been that long though, Hank knew, and reactions to exposure could vary from mutant to mutant. Some people came down with the disease quickly, others took more time. The team might not even catch it at all, Hank postulated, not if these dirty bullets were localized infecting agents that only struck down the intended victim and not others he came in contact with.

The Lucky Dragon had returned to the train station, wanting to keep an eye on the white truck. Hank could hear Scott issuing orders to someone back home over the line. Scott was trying to get someone local to come and pick up the truck. Hank doubted that there was much risk in anyone following them to the truck becoming infected, the virus wasn't that strong when left exposed on hard surfaces. The extreme cold was also in their favor. The X-men had small branches of helpers around, both mutant and human, for situations like these. Scott wanted the truck for further processing. Someone was answering back that they were only a couple of hours away. Jean could try and telepathically hide the truck from any snooping eyes as best she could, making sure it wasn't towed away in the meantime.

Hank could hear the others getting restless. Bobby's limited attention span was showing itself as he complained, "So what are we doing next? Is this it? Is this all we've got?

"Until we get more info, then, yeah," Scott replied, just as disappointed. It was driving him crazy not having something to do that can move them forward. They had teammates out there who needed their help and his hands were tied.

"I've hacked into the train station's database, but it's really complicated," Seth was lamenting. "These trains go very fast and in more than one direction. We have no idea where they went. I can see on record some classified trains that could signify SHIELD transports but we have no way of knowing if those are the ones we want or not. I mean I can hack into the records, but it will take time. Time we don't have."

"Why would SHIELD want Logan?" Bobby questioned.

"Well, it's not like he and Fury are the best of friends," Scott mused. "But you'd think that if it was Fury who wanted him that badly for something that we'd at least get a call first."

"SHIELD's been wanting a look at our Dragons for a long time now," Seth added carefully, "..but you're right that when it comes to Logan Fury usually at least knocks first before kicking the door in."

"What if someone used one of their trains without knowing it, or hijacked the tag numbers?" Fallen suggested, reaching for anything. "Maybe this isn't even them at all."

"That wouldn't be an easy task," Scott replied, frowning as he rubbed his chin.

"Yes, but who knows? If Seth can hack them, so could someone else."

"True..."

Hank had nothing to add so he went back to work. Once he was sure the Flush was involved, he had sent out an electronic request to Seth for all files the X-men had on the disease. Seth had replied promptly and once Hank had what he needed, he began comparing the samples he had from Gryfon to the ones on record. There were some large pictures of the virus in its various stages in the files and they got Hank to thinking. They now knew that the recent outbreak of the Flush came from Marcus, a member of Jael's old terrorist organization. Jael had once infected the X-men as a warning years ago. Looking at some pictures of slides for comparison, he couldn't help but notice similarities.

Logan's report indicated that the child he had executed had been a ten year old girl. That would make her too young to have been a mutant that had gained her ability at puberty. If Hank's guess was right, she likely had been born with this condition and once he had discovered her, Jael had taken advantage of it. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that she was an infant back then, growing stronger as she had aged, and Jael or Marcus had used that to their advantage. The real question was, how long had Jael been in possession of this child? How and when had Marcus come by her? How many of Jael's bases of operation still remained out there that others might be using? It really was a shame Marcus had been taken out, Hank had just too many questions that needed answers. Ones that wouldn't be coming now. Now they would have to find a way to shut this down.

Fallen broke the momentary silence by asking, "Who else besides SHIELD could want Logan picked up?"

Hank couldn't help but rise to that by joking, "Shall I compile a list for you?"

Fallen laughed, "Point taken, but then who could grab both Logan and carry off the Dragon without anyone noticing? Not just anyone can take that ship. Too many safety features were built into it, they'd have to haul it. Only a powerful teleporter or a heavy duty telekine like that Hans Bergman fellow could lift or move that kind of weight. Not to mention the Stark tech bullets Hank found. These guys have to be government or someone with equally deep pockets."

"Sounds more like SHIELD again," Rogue chimed in. "Nobody's got deeper pockets than them."

"That we know about," Hank corrected. "But SHIELD wouldn't dare use someone like Hans Bergman from the Blue Sheets anyhow. Not while they are presumably actively trying to lock him up instead. Not that they are unopposed to borrowing from the criminal element now and again, but he's a whole new kind of freak that they wouldn't touch. If anyone ever found out there could be a huge scandal. This is more likely to be a whole new player."

Hank was distracted when a soft chime alerted him that the first of his blood tests had come in. The blood they had taken from the truck door came back X-gene positive. It could mean that the blood belonged to Gryfon, he of the poor broken nose, but it might also mean that whomever had nabbed their friends might be known mutant terrorists.

Hans Bergman. The fact that they knew of his involvement in this bothered Hank greatly. The truth was that Hans was more likely to work with his own kind rather than normal humans. If he was from the Blue Sheets, the others might be as well. This moved Hank to prepare the samples to be fully DNA tested. He couldn't do it here but once back home he could cross match the sample with the master database he was compiling back home, just as Seth had done with the fingerprints. It wouldn't be quick, DNA seldom was, but it could provide information for later.

Hank, moved by his leader's concern about who might be involved in this, decided to check Warren's poor tattered jacket for more blood. He might get a match from that to those mysterious prints they had collected. They simply had to learn more about who had taken Remy and his crew before it was too late. There was no knowing just what kind of danger they were in.

**(break)**

Kyle woke with a snort, the shredded remains of a foggy nightmare wisping away from his awareness like a traitorous ghost. He had hardly opened his eyes when the pain slammed him like a sucker punch from an unseen opponent. Unlike Logan who had awakened to find himself given the limited benefit of a metal chair, Kyle had no such pleasure. Instead he had been set on his knees on a cold cement floor, his arms held out tightly to either side by strong metal chains with cuffs around his wrists. Those chains were connected to cinderblock frames on either side of him just for that purpose. This odd position not only held him mostly upright, but also removed from him the option of changing position to relieve his stiff, aching muscles. His body had been stripped down naked and the cold cement floor dug into his bare skin. He wasn't normally so sensitive to temperatures, but the pain was making it hard to ignore the full gamut of misery he was currently suffering. This situation had been designed for maximum cruelty and he was feeling every bit of it. His shoulders, lower back, and knees were one huge ugly ache.

It was startling this pain, it had been a while since he had been abused by anyone on this scale. Pain had been a constant friend along the long winding path of his life, but the better living conditions at the Complex had allowed him to grow soft, he was thinking now. He should have known that the good times weren't going to last.

The pain made his stomach clench and he retched, instigating a trembling in his limbs that rattled the chains that held him. It had been hours since his meager breakfast and he had little to come up now except foul tasting bile and spit. Whatever chemicals his captors had been giving him to weaken him were still present and keeping him ill, though he could sense they were fading as his body was trying its dutiful best to deal with them. His face and hair were still matted and crusted with blood from his earlier fight in the woods. They had stripped him down, but hadn't done much to clean him up. This was not shaping up to be one of his better days.

The room he was in was rank with multiple layers of fear and old blood that had nothing to do with what was still fouling his face. He wasn't the only one to suffer here and likely wouldn't be the last. It seemed like the bad guys never got what they deserved, at least not the ones that Kyle had had the displeasure of meeting. Justice was as fleeting as kindness in this world.

In the past, Kyle's first response to trouble like this would be to try and fight against his bonds to see if he could break free. He knew there was no point in doing this now and so he closed his eyes and tried to relax, to quiet his troubled mind and simply endure. Remy had taught him the value of remaining calm in tense situations and he was doing his best to remember those lessons. If he was patient an opportunity for escape might present itself to him. He even allowed himself to possess a feeble hope that this might not even be as bad as his rather vivid imagination might first think. When he had initially been taken years ago by the terrorist Jael, it had been like this at the start with the restraints and pain, but then once Jael had found a proper use for him – the cannabilistic consumption of his enemies — it actually hadn't been all that bad. Plenty of food then for poor Kyle, oh yes. Captivity can have its perks, if you can look at things from a certain perspective.

Kyle could adapt to most situations, he was if anything, a survivor. He could have no real expectation that the others from his team would even bother to come and look for him. Judging by how most of them regarded him he figured they were likely saying "good riddance to bad trash". Time now to simply wait and see what fate had in store for him this time and hopefully find a way to just roll with it until he could discover some means of escape. Round ten of the same old shit. He closed his eyes and relaxed, steadying his breathing, and actually felt the worst of the pain partially subside.

A few moments later he was startled out of his revere when the door to his cell abruptly opened. He jerked in surprise and the motion caused a new explosion of new pain to rip through his already agonized body. Sparkling bits of shivery pain raced riot over his neck and shoulders and creeped down his back like an unwanted lover. He couldn't stop from choking on a traitorous cry of misery. Damn his pathetic weakness!

With his head down now and his eyes filling with blurry tears of agony and frustration, Kyle could just make out the legs of two men approaching him. He had visitors. He might not be able to see so well at the moment but his sense of smell was working just fine. Daken's scent was familiar from the fight in the forest and not much of a surprise but the other person was a stranger. Not that there wasn't something familiar about him. Kyle didn't think that this was someone that he had actually met before, but it was likely that this guy was related to someone he already knew. Sometimes a smell could come that way, associations and connections by blood. These two men not only smelled similar to each other, they smelled like Logan and well, a little like Sabretooth, too. This wasn't good. That little family gave 'dysfunctional' a whole new meaning.

"At last," Romulus said in greeting. "We finally meet in person. And I've heard so much about you."

The contempt and derision was obvious in the man's voice. Just like Sabretooth. So very arrogant, the dominance taken for granted. Kyle had been around enough to know that some men just have that sound. These were in charge guys and not just simple guards or middlemen.

Even so, Kyle could care less about these men and their cruelty. They would get no respect from him, that would have to be earned. Kyle didn't speak his reply but dared to show a bit of fang as he gave them a low hiss of his own displeasure. He wasn't stupid, he would not outright provoke, but he could show he wasn't going to just roll over for them and show his belly, restraints or not. The fact that he was being held like this left little doubt that he was likely to die here anyhow and in a most unpleasant way. It would make no difference if he didn't exactly comply or cower.

"How sweet," Daken teased, smiling at Romulus with real amusement. "He has little fear, the poor thing. But we know better, don't we?"

Romulus just grunted in response, he was still looking Kyle over with real interest as he continued to address his prisoner. "Yes, we know quite a lot about you, you see. This is not the first time you and I have crossed paths though I doubt you would remember it. I once oversaw many of the experiments that you took part in years ago in the Weapon X program and I've read your files then and since. You were never born a mutant were you? And what a very interesting DNA profile you now have, a gift from your betters. We'll be giving that a test to see just how Lupine you really are."

"But first things first," Daken interrupted. "I have a promise to keep."

Romulus nodded his consent and Daken came forward and stooped down near to Kyle so that he could begin to set up what looked like a microphone on a stand. It didn't ease Kyle's anxiety any - an audience, seen or unseen, always made things worse. The nearness of the man's meaty shoulder, though, was a temptation too juicy to ignore and he lunged at Daken with a sharp snap of his teeth. He grabbed only empty air however, Daken was much too clever to be taken by surprise like that.

"You never give up," Daken teased now from just out of reach. Kyle really hadn't had a chance and Daken knew it. Still, he praised, "I love that about you," just before slamming his elbow into poor Kyle's face in retaliation, breaking his nose.

Kyle shouted a string of rough curses as renewed agony exploded over his entire body. It wasn't just the blow to his face, it was the fact that his joints had been given no mercy in his restraints. The cascade effect of the movement of his body was like shattering a figure made of glass. He felt broken everywhere.

"That is a fine song you sing," Romulus commented. "Something I can't wait for your friends to hear."

"And heard it they did," Daken replied, having clicked on the mike before Kyle's short tirade had begun to fade.

Romulus grinned at that, pleased. He announced loudly, making sure the microphone caught his words, "I understand there was some trouble on the train ride in. Such things cannot go unpunished. Hear now, my dear friends, what your disobedience has wrought."

**(break)**

A short distance away Remy was also on his knees, albeit his arms mercifully free of chains, his head down as he took a breather, trying to think. He was exhausted now, tired from dealing with his complicated pair of Siskans and it had made his mind momentarily wander. Like he had trained the kids, he had taken a second to collect himself and focus on what was most important. He had to get back home, back home to Molly. His mind had flashed on just how wonderful she had felt in his arms and how sweet was her kiss just that morning. He could visualize her shine, how sparkly and bright it was.

Bright, yes.

Had it been brighter than when he saw her last? Yes, he thought it was so and it made him smile, all of his current worries vanishing for just a second or two as he was overcome with momentary bliss. He had seen it that way before, so he had. Last year when they had first discovered she was pregnant. They had recently been trying again – they were both on the same page about having a large family – and now it seemed their latest attempt had been successful. It had taken her so long to get pregnant the first time, now it seemed she was capable of doing that with little difficulty. He had to get back home. His dream on the train had been no coincidence, he knew that now. His subconscious mind had discerned what the change in her shine had meant even if his waking mind had been a little slow on the uptake. Being drugged and kidnapped will do that to a guy.

Well, if he as gong to pull off that minor miracle, it was time to get this moving.

Remy snapped his fingers at Dewy. "You bring Jones wit you?"

Jones was Dewy's pet rat and the pair were inseparable. Since Dewy's mutation allowed him to possess the minds of animals the rat itself could be of some advantage. Jones could go where big clumsy humans could not. Dewy most often carried Jones in his Away Pack, a pack that was now missing. All of the team's packs had been confiscated and stored who knows where in this building.

Dewy squinted, concentrating as he used his powers to reach out to any animal in the vicinity, and then frowned. His voice was soft and purposeful as he answered, "I brought him but he's not in here in the cell with us. He's close though, with the Two of Spades I think."

Remy nodded, pleased that Dewy had remembered to speak in code. His words had meant that Jones was with Tink and since both were not here, they might be their ace in the hole. The pair were easy to overlook, the rat and the tiny girl, even easier to underestimate. All good for a Thief always willing to gamble.

"Give 'em a look, neh?"

"You know my range isn't that far, maybe only forty feet. I can't See farther than that."

"Try."

Dewy squinted and concentrated but at that moment, there came a crackling from overhead. Loudspeakers had come on, followed by the sounds only pure agony could provide. At first Remy feared that even their quick coded conversation had been overheard and understood, but then he realized that what they were about to hear was no warning to behave, but something much worse. He recognized the shout as Kyle's.

"Merde..!" Remy hissed in spite of himself, involuntarily gripping Julien that much closer. There was no mistaking the opening salvo of a torture session that was sure to horrify.

"Who was that?" Trigger asked, his eyes darting everywhere as if he could locate the source of the sound, or even better, find a way out of this place.

"Zat wasz Kyle," Aiden answered for them all, his eyes as low as his voice.

**(break)**

Romulus looked down on poor Kyle like he was some kind of insect or at best, a very interesting science project. The boy had stopped cursing and was now panting heavily, his body already slick with sweat and they had hardly begun yet.

"Mrr! They...won't care... what you do to me. Mrr! Never gave one shit.. about me!" Kyle grumbled, believing every word. He might be a member of the makeshift Red Team that Remy had assembled, but because of his terrible past he would always be last in line. He wanted so much more than that but was all too familiar with his real status in the world. Last in line, last in rank, last in all things. It was all he would ever be. At least with Remy he had been treated with real respect in spite of his being on the outside. The Thief had never laid a hand on him in punishment, not even when he needed correction, and it was what kept him trying. In spite of what he knew the others thought of him, he would die for them if he thought it would make a difference, he had gained that much honor in these past weeks. Sadly though, it didn't look like he was going to get that chance.

Romulus nodded, hearing the honesty in the tone of Kyle's voice. Still he said, "We'll just see about that. Sometimes just because you think a thing doesn't make it true. They certainly wouldn't have taken you along if they had thought your being here had no merit."

Kyle grinned without humor, showing bloodied teeth as he changed tack. "Mrr! Heh, nothing you can do me.. Mrr! ..hasn't already... been done before."

"Now, that is probably true," Romulus agreed in an eerily creepy fatherly tone, something tinged with what sounded like true regret. He proved it false as he added, "But it will still hurt nonetheless."

Romulus moved to a small table against the wall and lay down a black cloth roll he had brought in with him. It opened with the clink of metal implements and pain, objects that Romulus revealed to his captive with unconcealed delight. Most of them were sharp, ceramic knives of various sizes and made of the highest quality. While they looked well cared for, they also looked a little too well used for Kyle's liking. What was worse than all that of course was a large, commercial sized can of Lysol disinfectant air freshener spray and an expensive metal cigarette lighter that had been included in this toolkit for the playfully sadistic. Kyle somehow doubted the can was there to brighten the smell of the room – with its high alcohol content, the spray was highly flammable and the one thing that most healers struggled to recover from easily was burns. They hurt worse than anything and took the longest to heal. There comes a moment in a person's life when they know they are good and well severely fucked. Kyle's came when he saw what Romulus had laid out for him. He couldn't stop his heart rate from jumping. This was going to be bad. Well, wasn't it always? Same shit, different day. Whatever.

Kyle closed his eyes, just wanting this over with. As before on the train, he once again used Remy's advice on how to survive capture and torture and thought of the one good thing he'd had in his life. Her, her lovely face. The one he now loved. Real or not, the thought of her lovely golden eyes brought him peace.

Romulus grunted in amusement as he watched this, hearing both the sudden uptick in the boy's heart rate at the sight of his tools and then his attempt to calm it. He had been told this boy was hopelessly violent and that he would be more likely to try and fight his way out of this, not just take it like a trooper. It didn't thwart Romulus' plans any, he was much too wise. The calm wouldn't last - it never did, not when he got to work anyhow.

Romulus' fingers playfully brushed over the can of Lysol spray and the lighter, flirty with anticipation of playtime. His voice was conversational and light even as he discussed the cruelties to come, his idea of foreplay. "You'd be surprised what people think when they see others in pain, especially those they may have mistreated or misjudged in the past. It brings out all their guilt. At least in those capable of feeling it."

Kyle ignored the man, uninterested in what he had to say. He had received too little sympathy to believe any of it. He knew the words had been spoken not for him but to the ones listening, all the better to teach the desired lesson and intimidate. He kept his eyes closed and focused on his dream. His peace, however, wasn't going to last.

"Let's take a look now," Romulus said, beginning this, and Daken complied.

Daken moved behind Kyle where those nice sharp teeth could not reach and crouched down, his front to Kyle's back. He brought his arms up around Kyle's shoulders and clasped his hands behind Kyle's neck, taking him in an upper body lock. Daken might have been slight of build, but he was quite powerful and had full control. This position allowed Romulus to safely crouch before the boy and spread his lips back just like you would a dog, getting a nice long peek at Kyle's teeth.

Daken thought he might have to force Kyle's compliance in this through the use of his pheromones, much like he had done to poor Warren in order to kill his urge to fight, but oddly Kyle simply calmed himself and waited. The heat of Kyle's body betrayed his anxiety, but he wasn't fighting this, not yet. The boy had been tortured before, this Daken knew, so the calm wasn't from a lack of knowledge of what was to come, only from a state of readiness. Readiness that could fail at any time. He didn't trust Kyle not to do something wild once his Master got down to business, he wasn't so stupid as to let his guard down.

Kyle so didn't want to do this, it was sure to be awful. He desperately desired to try and to throw Daken off but with all the restraints - metal, brick and human flesh – knew it would be of no use. He steadied himself instead, fighting to keep his focus – her beautiful eyes, so extraordinary. Her sweet smell. He had never smelt anyone so wonderful. She was vanilla, peaches and cream, favorites from a shampoo she frequently used once she realized how much he liked it. With her in his mind he could do this well, go out with some semblance of dignity. It was helpful that even though Daken was positioning him for the great and terrible whatever, the man's touch was oddly gentle. No matter what Romulus might promise, Kyle had no doubt this session would end in his severe mutilation if not his own death.

Kyle offered no resistance to Romulus' violation of his personhood, his eyes glassy now and uncaring. It was a most perplexing response and the surprise of it came out in Romulus' voice even as he proclaimed with some admiration, "You have a very nice set of canines there, quite elongated and lovely. You pass stage one."

"He has claws on both his hands and feet," Daken added, releasing Kyle once his master had finished looking at his mouth and moved back. He fully expected Kyle to lunge for him again, but instead the boy merely shook himself a bit, as if to get the taste of Daken off of his skin, but not to escape in any way. Daken, as perplexed as his Master, continued to be helpful in the exam by adding, "I can personally vouch for his healing factor, I shot him twice in the face at point blank range. Later he took two Flush rounds and yet here he sits, still with us."

"Hmm..." Romulus mused as he returned to his tools. He couldn't stop looking at Kyle, at the boy's maddening calm. "That makes him stage five at least. Of course, only a decent burn test will tell us for certain."

He was speaking back to Kyle now as he said, "I've wanted this look at you for a long time. I've wanted to see what those mad scientists had wrought out of simple human clay. The Weapon X scientists in their astonishing hubris were always trying to recreate our perfection. See now, they took a pathetic human street whore and advanced you much further along the food chain. Gave you privilege and power. Of course, their more recent attempts to replicate us have been more promising than your outdated, pitiful result. Still, you could possibly be included amongst our ranks."

Kyle heard little of it, everything had gone a little fuzzy and glowy. He remembered little of the original experimentation that had been done on him all those years ago and that was fine with him. What he did recall was dark, ugly and filled with unspeakable horrors. He had a good excuse not to want to wander too far down memory lane, all this moving around had caused enough constant and searing pain in his back and arms that he was shaking now, his body slipping into shock. He knew this sensation well and welcomed the numbness that was sure to come when these guys really got down to business. The dream of his love was still holding, though, no amount of pain was going to shake her from his mind. Of that he vowed.

"Tell me," Romulus inquired in a voice that said he pretty much knew the answer to his question anyway. "Your file says that you were chemically altered using a serum made of the blended DNA from both Mr. Logan and Mr. Creed. That would in fact, make you something of their son. I'd love to know, do they ever treat you as such?"

Kyle declined to answer. Truth was that while Sabretooth never so much as acknowledged that bloody familial connection, Logan had once not all that long ago. They had called a truce then and no longer warred against each other, though the trust had never been fully restored. Kyle was still much too wild to be let off the short leash.

"Of course something here doesn't quite match your current file," Romulus continued, not really caring that Kyle had kept his silence. "Your legs are no longer straight like a man's. Your face has a more pronounced snout than before as well. It seems that what we've been told was true. Something was done to you even after Weapon X released you."

Kyle didn't dignify that with a response, he simply kept his silence, not giving them anything.

"Tell me, boy," Romulus demanded, addressing his captive, "Who is Skye? I think the rumors about him must be true. "

The unexpected question shocked Kyle from his dream state and he growled, "Mrr! Fuck you!" before he could stop himself. Physical pain he could deal with, he had endured it his whole stupid and useless life, but this? This was too unfair. Regretful of his outburst, he choked down any more words that might follow and turned his head away, feebly grasping once more for her face, her scent. But here there was just too much raw emotion that he had never fully dealt with. Too much unresolved pain.

Romulus just smiled his toothy, malevolent grin. He had finally elicited a response from the kid, one he could use. How nice. "Well, now we have your full attention, don't we? So, we can do this easy or we can do this the hard way, something Daken here would enjoy far too much. Again, who is Skye?"

**(break)**

"Merde!" Remy hissed low at the question, upset more by the fact that Romulus knew about Skye than the question itself. Just how much did this Romulus asshole know about the goings on at the Complex? Who had infiltrated them? It had to be a spy who was working there, there was no other way, right? This was bad on more levels than the poor Thief could count.

"Who the hell is Skye?"

Remy blinked and looked impatiently at Herc who had cautiously whispered the question. Hercules had seen the look of shock and concern on Remy's face at the name and it had frightened him. It wasn't like their leader to give so much away.

Hercules wasn't the only one concerned about what was going on. The other boys had started to wake and were distressed by the horrible noise that had been broadcasted so carelessly. Dewy was retching as usual and Trigger wasn't looking so good. Trueblood though, had already heard more than he cared to and had turned his head away. Hercules however, was still impatiently waiting for whatever wisdom Remy might pass along to help make any of this make sense.

Gambit wasn't sure if he should answer the boy or not seeing as how not only was anything he said likely to be overheard by spies, but that this was also a very sensitive matter. There were things the kids were not allowed to know about each other, private things locked away in confidential files. Not everything was laid out on the table for just anyone to read and this was one of them.

Who was Skye? That was a complicated question if ever there was one. Skye, a renegade Siskan with some very serious mental issues, had indeed healed Kyle in much the same manner that Hank's Star could heal others. The healing had been effective, but it was the manner in which it was done that was the real issue with Remy's concern for privacy. Unlike Star who was passive and kind, Skye had taken Kyle as his slave and pretty much sexually demeaned the boy even as he helped him to recover his feral powers. The return of the healing had come with unexpected complications – the healing had triggered a secondary mutation and Kyle's body had changed, altering the shape of his legs and face, making him appear to be even more of an animal than he had been before. It hadn't been done out of love or kindness, Skye had simply found someone he could exploit and use and had done so. It hadn't been a healthy relationship. So cruel it was that this was being dug up again now for all to hear. Gambit didn't know what he could possibly say to explain any of it.

That was okay. Before Remy could compose his thoughts enough for a decent reply, the question was answered for them all by someone else.


	3. Chapter 3

Howdy! Thanks to everyone who has stuck by me and is still reading, especially you Liz, who reviews every time! Love you, guys. :)

(Three)

"Don't mind the kid," Sabretooth said, walking through the still open door of Kyle's holding cell and joining Romulus and Daken as if he belonged there. "He's just embarrassed about what Skye made him do. And the fact that he loved every fucking minute of it."

Kyle saw the big man come and slumped low, feeling the last of his hard won control begin to crumble and fall away from him. Yes, Remy had taught him as best he could, but the Thief's newer method of helping him deal with all of this was something as yet untried in the field. Remy's training could only carry him so far and this was so very hard to bear, even if he hadn't already been in such physical pain. The thoughts of his precious love could not compete with these darker revelations causing him mental torment. He was now being forced to face things he had long avoided thinking about. He was being swamped.

Kyle hadn't forgotten that Victor was here amongst these other monsters, but he had foolishly hoped that their reunion in the train would be their last. It seemed the cruelty that the world was willing to dish out to him was endless and overflowing. No amount of training could help a man like him, a man who walked constantly on the thin red edge of his unceasing anger to overcome this.

The others back home had no idea what it was like for him, always having to restrain his fiery temper when there were so many triggers out there for him – certain scents, sounds, and phrases – things that dredged up so much crap he would rather forget. Seeing the kids bicker in the woods, the weaker Julien being picked on by the stronger boys, Gryphon's roaming eyes, these were triggers. Yes, her lovely face could help him with those sort of triggers, but having his deepest darkest skeletons dragged out of the closet by this asshole? The vision of her couldn't help him with that. How could it? It was bad enough that yet again, his former tormentor was here face to face but now this guy was willingly dredging up things that were best left in the past for all to hear. The microphone was still there, its bright red light reminding Kyle that with every word, his team was moving further and further away from him. He couldn't be sure of how much of his past even Remy had been aware of nevermind the others, not that it mattered now. Soon the whole world would know everything.

There was more to it than just that, of course. Kyle wasn't sure what rankled more, the fact that his dirty laundry was about to be gleefully aired for all to hear or that Skye's ultimate rejection of him still burned deep and ugly. Kyle had been with Skye the longest and he had been too tightly bonded to the demented Siskan for him to fully walk away as Sabretooth had. On the day that Victor had disappeared after the mission in Twilight, Skye's last words to Kyle were to the effect that the weaker, less acceptable lion had been left behind and what a waste that had been. Like a child who was told by a sick and twisted parent that he was ugly even though he wasn't, Kyle had never forgotten it. He no longer had any contact with Skye, but that didn't mean the Siskan's presence didn't still linger in some small yet significant way.

Angry now and filled with the deepest darkest, blackest hate, Kyle forgot himself and what little self control he had. He lunged at Sabretooth, needing desperately to make someone pay for this disaster. Victor, anticipating this, saw him coming and quickly stepped back. Kyle's sharp teeth clacked on empty air even as he sent new horrors of pain up and through his shoulders and lower back from the effort. Like the Wild Child of old, this pain did not stop his wrath, even as a second, more powerful lunge popped one shoulder right from its socket with a sickening crack.

Sabretooth knew Kyle couldn't reach him now so he stood as he was, watching with a familiar pure delight as the boy worked himself into a frenzy that did him no good, just like the good old times. Even if Kyle had been able to break free, he was presently too malnourished to be of any real challenge if they were to actually fight. He would be no sport.

Kyle did not know it, but Victor had been in this very same position not all that long ago, when Romulus had first taken him right out from under the X-men's noses. Romulus had been the one to steal Sabretooth away from the X-men and had brought him here to be examined, just as Kyle was being looked at now. Disoriented and distrustful of these men he hadn't known, Victor had snapped the chains on his first try. Being better fed, he had at least a hundred pounds if not more on Kyle and his captors had underestimated his resolve to never be caged. The force of Sabretooth's rage had impressed Romulus and made him more charitable. When the big man had finally calmed enough to be reasoned with, Romulus had offered him some rank and he had accepted it willingly, ever the survivor.

Sabretooth, high on his new rank and privilege, was happy to keep running off his mouth at Kyle's expense. He looked down on the boy now and sneered, "You should have seen him when Skye fucked him. He squealed for it just like a little girl. Bet he'd do it again if he had a chance. He may be Lupine based on his looks but he sure as hell ain't no alpha."

"He could be with training," Romulus reluctantly offered, frowning a little. He was looking down on Kyle now less favorably. He hadn't liked how reckless the boy had been. Kyle, defeated now by his own wrath, had crumpled at Romulus' feet. Now that his resolve was gone, he was too weak to even try to pop his shoulder back into place. He was a broken and twisted ruin, tears streaming from his eyes. Pathetic.

"He never responded to any Program," Sabretooth reminded. "And look, even his own people don't trust him. He's got a tracker on."

He was referring to the tracking anklet Kyle still wore, a silver chain that glittered there by his foot, the same as Julien wore. Daken had seen it of course, he was exact about everything he did, but he hadn't bothered to remove it, doubting that down here its signal could be received from anyone outside the facility. The walls here were too thick, the floor too far underground for cell phones either. It held no threat to any of them.

"And yet someone took the time to pierce his ear," Romulus mused, having noted the very new looking gold stud in the boy's right earlobe. Being a healer meant it was impossible to date the actual time the stud had been inserted of course, but the jewelry itself looked very fresh and expensive.

"He could have done that himself," Victor argued.

"Perhaps, but somehow I think not. There is no vanity in this one. My guess is he did it to please someone. There is much going on here that I think even his team mates do not understand," Romulus observed. "Mysteries to be uncovered later. I'd still like the boy tested. They do say fire can be purifying. Let's find out. Daken, if you please."

"As you wish, Master."

**(break)**

Still in holding, Remy cursed again when he heard Sabretooth's voice come through the speakers, this was going from bad to worse. This was totally out of control now. What he had presumed had been a simple kidnapping for possible recruitment had just escalated into a whole new animal. He had hoped Sabretooth was gone for good back when he had disappeared weeks ago. Gambit did have one aspect of relief, though - if it was Victor who had told Romulus about Skye then maybe the Complex back home might not have been as compromised as he initially feared. All things being relative, anyhow.

Remy and Sabretooth had a history together, one that hadn't gone well. The man could never be fully trusted, no matter what the situation. Really, he shouldn't have been surprised to hear the man's voice, not when this was sounding like something that was little more than family squabbling. Of course when Logan's family bickered, it more often than not got a little bloody. Collateral damage was the norm, not the exception. He had to get the kids out of here before this mess spilled over onto them any more than it already had.

Remy could sense that the kids were restless around him, growing more and more disturbed by how badly outed Kyle was getting by these cruel men. Hercules was especially upset, but for different reasons, Remy could see. The boy's homophobic tendencies were going into hyper-drive and he could almost hear the boy's inner thoughts._ Just how many of these guys were gay anyhow? _As if any of that should matter.

It was mattering to Kyle at the moment, however. His voice was coming out loud and clear over the speakers.

"Mrr! You let Skye fuck you, too!" Kyle bawled at Sabretooth, wanting to spread the humiliation around where it properly belonged. He was horrified at the thought of the others hearing this, but then he probably never had their respect even before this. If not this would no doubt just finish him off. He didn't know if he was ever going home again now, so what difference did it make what was said, really? "You did anything... mrr! Skye asked!"

Sabretooth wasn't the least bit fazed by Kyle's sloppy outburst. His voice was calm as he explained, "Sorry, kid. You got it all wrong. I let him force me just for the healin', kid. And it was worth it, for this," Victor replied, showing himself off. Unlike Kyle, he had been more than healed from what Jael had done to them both. While he hadn't hung around long enough with Skye for a secondary mutation to occur, he was better than before, well muscled and powerful. And still mean enough to make sure he was fully understood, he would have Kyle's heart and mind shredded and stripped down to the core. He wasn't lying when he argued, "But for you, it was much more personal, wasn't it? You actually loved the guy. You liked it, you submissive little pussy - bein' owned - and didn't want it to end. You'd go right on back now and spread yer little furry legs for him, wouldn't you, if that bastard up and called yer name. Don't even try to deny it. Yer too weak to be yer own master, always have been. You were jealous of me when I had Skye's full and undivided attention. What does that say about you, boy?"

Kyle turned away from the awful truth, choking on a bitter sob of abject misery. None of this was a lie and it burned through his chest like he had swallowed pure acid. There was nothing more to say here, all that was left was to die well. Sabretooth could get a pass for the bad behavior but never him, never him. No one would have him now, that had been made very clear. Not even her, his precious love, would be able to tolerate him now, not after what he had done. Still, Remy had never said that the saving dream had to be a reality, did he? Kyle grasped once more for her and then he was gone, his mind fully blank. Death, it would be a mercy. So let it come.

Romulus watched the boy simply shut off again and couldn't help but admire it. It was almost enough for him to forgive the boy's earlier lapse of control. Romulus had made attempts to train a great many of his Lupine kin in the art of separation and even in this Daken, his best pupil, had rarely succeeded.

"Your spirit is strong, little lion," Romulus praised, using Skye's nickname for him in a gesture that betrayed just how much he had been told. "Let's see how well it holds up to the true test."

Daken nodded and got ready, moving to one side that allowed him enough access to Kyle to control him should he actually break free, but also one that gave him an unobstructed view of Kyle's back. He needed it, he was the one holding the stopwatch.

Romulus took the can of Lysol spray and the lighter and moved behind the now still young man. The only sign that betrayed that the lad was awake and aware was the continued shaking of his poor distressed body. Romulus looked down on Kyle's scrawny back, noting the sad fact that he could count every vertebrae in the kid's spine as well as most the ribs that were sticking out of his skin like he was a refugee from some starving third world country. He had no body fat so this likely wasn't going to take long. Romulus couldn't imagine how any creature so wretched would even want to continue in life, never mind serve on anyone's team. Maybe he could help with that, if the boy gave him a chance. Of course, first he would have to prove himself worthy of Romulus' attention at all.

"Remember that there will be reward in this for you, should you pass this test," Romulus promised before he began.

Kyle no longer gave a shit – not about his words or anything else. Kyle had been through so much, passed hands from one madman to the next. Romulus failed to understand that to Kyle he was no different from Jael, from the men who had stolen him for Weapon X, even from his own father who had blamed him for everything that had gone wrong in their lives and beat the shit out of him. Why should he care what any of them said? Kyle was done, done with everything now.

Romulus took a breath, preparing himself and began.

Good ole Kyle, he was so very brave – at first. He managed to keep quiet even as the flames began to set his tender flesh alight. Even as what little meat there was covering his bones melted away. Even as Victor crouched down in front of him, his terrible mouth split in an evil grin of delight as watched what was being done to him, as if Kyle in some way deserved it.

Maybe he did, Kyle's poor fracturing mind reasoned with itself. So many horrible crimes he had committed in his long life though there was one that stood out above all others. He saw her eyes, his precious love. How they once had smiled at him with the most adoring gleams of golden light. But all that had changed, hadn't it? It wasn't from the ugly revelations these cruel men had brought to light. No, Kyle had done the damage all on his own, only hours before Aiden's texted scramble. He had done it with his own stupidity and feral lust.

The burning of his flesh was agonizing, quite possibly the worst pain he had ever felt. Something that hurt this bad could only end in death, of that he was certain. He would never get to save his team or even die for them in a blaze of glory and honor. He would never get to be the hero. But most of all, he would never get to apologize to her face, to the one he loved best. He could still try, though, he could shout it in the hopes that she would hear it and understand. This he could do before he died, he could do that one thing at least.

The thought of it finally broke him, of what he had done to her, and all of the pain he was feeling and the horror finally leapt from him in an agonizing howl. "Grace! Grace! I didn't mean it, Grace! Mrr! Mrr! I'm so sorry! Grace! Oh, God... ! Grrraaaace...!" Whatever else he might have added was lost in a drowning garble of spit, blood and madness. Having exhausted even the extended limits of his tolerance for pain, Kyle slumped and let go, let the darkness finally take him.

Romulus stopped the flames just as the last of Kyle's bowel loosening cries echoed away into the empty air. He was cold and detached, not the least bit concerned or remorseful about the inhuman cruelty he had just delivered, that Kyle was in fact a living breathing person and not just another piece to add to his collection. Still, he had to admit admiration. He had expected Kyle to fade fast and fall pathetically, but he had held out for a proper interval before he had begun to bleat like the sacrificial lamb and Romulus began to wonder just how many people had underestimated the boy, including himself.

The room was quiet now, the only sounds were the soft sobs of Kyle's semi-conscious stupor and the ticking of Daken's stopwatch, timing the rate of healing.

Sabretooth squinted, not liking the quiet, and grunted, "Who the fuck is Grace?"

**(break)**

Gambit heard Kyle shout Grace's name and was shocked silent from one too many bizarre revelations coming out from this ugly interview on public display. Kyle's intimate relationship with both Skye and Sabretooth Remy had known in all of its ugly, brutal detail, it had been documented in Kyle's recruitment files but was kept private with only limited access. He had thought himself clever, the knower of all of Kyle's dark secrets. Guess he was wrong. Kyle and Grace? It was just too unexpected. Where had that come from? He was well trained enough to keep himself from calling out to the girl to confirm any of this - he didn't want to give away her identity to their captors - but he couldn't stop his eyes from seeing the truth of it in her shine. It was dark and cloudy with horror and shame. He wasn't sure what upset him the worst - seeing her so trashed or the fact that these two having some sort of relationship had gotten completely past him. He had prided himself on what he thought were his superior powers of observation, but damn, these two had certainly been clever. They had wiles.

In her cell across from her troubled team leader, Grace knelt with her eyes tightly closed. Both Izzie and Tilda had come closer in sympathy but she had kept them away with a sharp shake of her head, knowing the same as Remy did that it would be very bad for any of these men who held them to understand who she really was.

Grace most often projected herself to others as strong willed, one of the strongest girls she knew, but inwardly right now she was a complete wreck. It was bad enough that the one she had loved best was being subjected to such humiliation, torture, and pain, but to hear his heartfelt and pained apology, one she hadn't needed since he had been immediately forgiven the moment he had run from her yesterday, nearly tore her in two.

To Remy's credit, the pair hadn't been an actual item long though the attraction had been there from the beginning. Grace had been among the kidnapped mutant children there at Twilight when the X-men had rushed in to save them. At first her golden slotted eyes had fallen on her savior – Logan – the one who had actually released her and brought her out of captivity. She had even been lucky enough to score one of Wolverine's ripped up Gold Team jackets, one she still guarded jealously as a favored trophy. He had never asked for it back even though he had seen her wear it around more than once. But before she had departed from Twilight, she had witnessed Kyle in full feral glory, snacking away on one of Jason Frosts' guards he had taken down. While seeing such blatant cannibalism might make most run away in horror, on her it had the opposite affect.

If Logan's wife Karen were here, the X-men's resident psychiatrist, she would have a not so clinical term for Grace's condition – she would call Grace a Clawdog, a girl who has more than a passing fancy for feral men. It wasn't a derogatory word, only simple slang, and it described Grace well. Karen would know this, of course, since she was one herself. Not that Karen knew Grace well, Grace was much too grounded to need Karen's services beyond the compulsory visits required for team inclusion.

After her rescue, Grace hadn't known that she would see Kyle again once she and the other kids had been taken to the Arizona Complex. The X-men did not as habit take prisoners by force. The kids had been given the choice to stay or leave and like most, Grace had chosen to be included amongst the people under the X-men's care. Once there Grace had quickly learned that Kyle was still considered a criminal and had been packed off to their small jail. He was denied a place within the free population.

Grace had been surprised to be invited to join Remy's newly formed Red Team but had been delighted to serve. She was an adventurous girl and one who enjoyed her chances. But when she saw that Kyle, too, had been included, well, she was sure to take advantage of any opportunity that might bring. It was fate, she reasoned, and who was she to argue? When the team was asked to help Kyle along with his education – being a former Weapon X reject didn't mean that his academics were up to speed – she had eagerly volunteered to tutor him in math and English. There hadn't been much competition – most of her team mates were pretty well afraid of him and with good reason, he was still wild and on the edge. They all knew that he had done bad things and well, most suspected that some of those bad things might happen again and to one of them. They didn't want much to do with him for that reason.

Grace was different in that regard, but then, unlike them, she'd had some experience with hardcore ferals before and they had not. Before Grace had been picked up by Jason Frost's goons, she had been part of a street gang, one that had been headed by a feral boy that wasn't much tamer than Kyle was.

Cristof Patterson had been tall and lean, dark haired haired and had bright shiny blue eyes that could pin you down as easily as any vampire charm. He had the clawed hands and long fangs of the best of his kind and a mild healing factor to match. He was furrier than Kyle, though, having also a long tail that flowed behind him. He was magnificent to behold, his street fighting skills the graceful dance of every big cat Grace had ever had the pleasure to watch on the Nature Channel. He was the most beautiful human she had ever seen. Or at least it had seemed so to Grace, fresh and only fourteen at the time and a runaway.

Grace's parents had been devoted to their children and had taught her that everyone was to be loved and accepted as they were but it had all been a lie. Those rules had gotten broken early once those pesky ole horns had showed up on her forehead, ones impossible to hide. Mom had been willing enough to overlook them but her dad simply hadn't been able to, abusing her verbally and then trying to hide her away. Worse than her simple cosmetic challenges was the first time they saw her shift into a goat. Well, to say they were horrified is something of an understatement. They were unsure if they needed a doctor or a priest. Was she demonically possessed? Cursed? They were beside themselves. If Grace had found her father belligerent before, now it was worse. When her mother became unwilling to come to her aid, young Grace had had enough and packing a few meager belongings, left home for good, and had never once looked back.

The gang had been open to newcomers at the time she had joined, her protruding goat horns making it clear she was more than qualified to belong. All of them had some outward sign of their mutancy and they wore those signs with obvious pride. Grace was thrilled and for the first time in a long while felt she was where she really belonged. That didn't mean that the handsome young feral man in charge was all over her, no, she had had to work long and hard to get Cristof to see her as anything special.

If you wanted to achieve high rank in any multi-member gang, especially one on the streets, you had to have a bigger talent set than a pair of nifty looking horns. If you could gather food and successfully scrounge up clothing, you were well appreciated and she was good at both, being just as wise as she was charming with sympathetic restaurant owners. Grace and her virginity parted ways early, it was the quickest way to score the best food scraps, but really, sex became something she had grown to enjoy quickly and the men who favored her had been for the most part gentle enough about it. The men had been scummy, yes, but never cruel.

Grace had always been an optimistic girl, her very best talent being adaptable to sudden change and being able to roll with those changes – home one day, homeless the next. Cold and hunger did not defeat her any more than being a mutant had. She coped with life as it was and as she grew both in skills and in spirit, she made it clear that she had one true goal in mind – she wanted to be Cristof's girl, his Lupa, his second in command and his one and only. Lucky for her, he noticed her more and more as her ability to provide for his group increased. Still, that alone hadn't been enough to lock her in. No, that had taken something else.

Cristof was their leader, but he often stole away, leaving on his own to some private place that none of them knew about. One day, a very brave Grace managed to track him down, or perhaps it simply was that he had wanted her to come and see, to learn what he truly was.

She followed him down dirty alleyways until he came to one patrolled by desperate drunks and filthy whores. He took his time, selecting the one he wanted, and then when the moment was right, Cristof took down his prey – a wino not more than skin and bones – and dragged him off to an empty, burned out building to feast. It had scared Grace at first, discovering that their leader was actually a talented serial killer – he had clearly been much too practiced at this for this to have been his first time. But then the more she watched him, the more it had thrilled her. His darkness, the beast inside of him that no carton of regular food could ever feed. She watched him consume the parts of his kill that he liked best and then she made herself known to him, not wanting to hide the way it had made her feel. Cristof watched her come, waiting for the accusations of being so monstrous to come, but when he saw that what she was thinking was quite the opposite, he smiled his bloody, toothy grin at her and took her boldly, making furious and passionate love to her only feet away from the man he had just hunted down and murdered. It had been the most erotic moment of her life and one she would never forget.

It wasn't a politically correct moment, she knew that, a man was dead. It was wrong to be doing this with that man's dead body so close, not even gone quite cold, but she wanted Cristof so badly she could hardly care. Plus she had been living on the streets long enough to understand that out here only the strong survived. She and Cristof were young, vital, and very much alive. His body burned against hers, its heat a lure she would never be free from, nor did she have any desire to be rid of it. She could do this with him forever.

When the pair returned to their gang, his secret well kept between the two of them, she finally had that which she had wanted most - Cristof firmly by her side. They both had what they had truly craved – mutual acceptance for who they were, as they were.

Well, all that had been nicely undone by mean ole Jason Frost. Weeks later, he came with his men, all dressed in black and well armed with dart guns. They crept into the gang's cozy hideaway under a large overpass and reaped their havoc. The gang members came awake to find themselves hunted and they broke apart, street rules demanding that each fend for themselves. The jumpers and fliers got away quick, the lucky ones. Grace was trim and healthy, but had never been athletic and so she was no match for these skilled hunters. Poor Grace got snared early and well, any hopes that Cristof would come to her rescue died quickly. He fled into the night and since she never saw him again, she figured he had escaped Frost's clutches and had found himself a new home in less turbulent waters.

The loss might have devastated her but she was above all else, a survivor. After her rescue from Frost, she found her own comfortable home under the X-men's tender care. Here was warm food, a clean bed and well, no one was hunting her down for favors she didn't care to dole out. When Remy invited her to join the Red Team, any lingering thoughts of discovering Cristof's whereabouts vanished as if they had never been. Then, just a few days later, Cristof had been replaced quickly enough by her next target – shy little Kyle Gibney.

Kyle had much in common with Cristof – a feral disposition and the same dark appetite – but he was also quite different. In him, Grace could see a desire to be better, to overcome all the misuse he had suffered. He was remorseful and sad, broken in his heart and soul. He was a drowning man with a single hand held out of the water, just waiting for someone to come along and pull him out. It brought out the young mother in her and now being far more mature than she had been before Twilight, she wanted to be the one to save him from the darkness and bring him back into the light.

It began with simple tutoring. As a runaway, Grace had missed out on the later grades but she had been quite smart in the ones she had attended. She picked up her lessons quite quickly here at the Complex once her education had resumed and had been more than happy to share what she had learned with Kyle. He had been distrustful of her at first, he had been used by far too many ugly people not to be, but her fearlessness of him and her bright happy smile won him over quickly enough.

At first Grace was sure how Kyle felt about her but after just a couple of meetings, she would catch him looking at her. He would quickly turn away, busted, but moments later, his eyes would be on her again. Getting his attention wasn't going to be hard. This wasn't like Cristof where she had to work to win his attention, but she could tell by his perpetual shyness that if this was going to move beyond simple friendship, she would still have to be the one making the moves.

Not that Grace was hurting for suitors. With her charm and easy going ways, she was hit on by many of the young boys who trained and attended classes with her. But Grace had a type and for the moment, Kyle was the only who came close to fitting it. She had eyes for no one else.

Kyle fell fast once he realized the attraction was mutual. He had few friends and was charmed by anyone who was so willing to spend time with him. And she had been quite persistent, being almost pushy in her attempts to spend as much time with him as she could. Her being very pretty and funny was an added bonus. At first the lessons were just simple math (Kyle's advanced age didn't mean he had been given a quality education when it came to academics), then they discovered they had some common interests – Kyle liked to read and they shared some books. The more they talked about the books, the better they got to know each other. Grace had been shocked at how smart Kyle actually was, something few people even noticed.

They were also discovering other things they had in common. Recently they had been hanging out in the Complex's grand Solarium, a huge park like area deep underground where the Arizona heat couldn't touch them. Lounging on the grass and giving Kyle one of his lessons, Grace happened to catch sight of Remy's wife Molly playing with their twins out on the grass. The sight of them prompted Grace to say to Kyle, "I miss my mom."

"I never had one," Kyle confessed softly, the first time he had ever done so. Who else had there been in the world that would care about his humble beginnings? Certainly not the men who had taken him and used him for their own sick purposes. Certainly not Jael and even as cautiously close he and Logan had become the man had never pressed him for details on his past.

Grace just smiled at Kyle, her pretty brown eyes optimistic even as she was sympathetic. "Everyone has one even if they never met."

"Mine died, mrr! .. birthing me."

"Oh, sorry..." Grace apologized. Sometimes she just forgot how bad life could be.

"My dad said it was my fault."

"Yeah? If it's any consolation, your dad was an asshole, just like mine."

He looked at her then, squinting slightly. She had learned that he did this when he was confused and what threw him most was how to read people in social situations. He had been abused, that much she knew from just asking around although the details were pretty spare. She knew that while he might look only seventeen or so, he was much, much older. Older than her dad, even. He hadn't matured much with all those years, he certainly didn't act like some old dude and not at all like Logan who seemed so much in control of his emotions.

"You're not so bad, you know," she advised, smiling at him with all of the warmth one besotted girl could muster. "Just because your old man said that doesn't mean he was right. I know mine wasn't."

The way she was looking at him now, so earnest and friendly, it made him feel funny, in ways he had never felt before. He could see that she was waiting, that she was expecting him to do something here, but being so socially inept, he wasn't sure what.

Grace was smart enough to see he was a bit clueless but wasn't about to let him waste so prime a moment. She leaned in and let him know what she wanted by pressing her lips against his.

The kiss was clumsy and not just because she didn't want anyone to see them. Kyle's face was abnormal, his jaws pushed out in a blunted half snout because of all the large and dangerous teeth he had in there. She knew his fangs were very real, she saw them every time he smiled, something that was happening more and more often these days. Of course the fact that he had never seen this coming didn't help his cause any either. He couldn't have been more surprised.

When it was obvious he had no clue what he was doing, Kyle turned away embarrassed. Being so much older, he should have been the more experienced here when in fact he wasn't. She didn't let him dwell on things that didn't matter but pulled him in again, whispering, "Slow, just go slow..."

It was better after that but she could feel him shaking with emotion. He had no guile, he was much too wild, it would always be obvious when he was agitated. She didn't want to get him too riled too quickly so she backed off and let him breathe. They talked some more after that, but then it was time for him to go back to his cell. It didn't change her mind in the least. She was determined that this small intimacy wasn't to be their last and she had her way. She just hadn't been prepared for how traumatic the result of that decision would be.

Grace was a clever girl, always had been, and once she had her mind set on something, most often found a way to make it happen, whether it was wise to do so or not.

Taking advantage of the fact that Remy had been sent away to Logan's cabin, Grace had used her charms to set her plans in motion. Kyle was let out from his prison cell only on a limited basis. He could attend classes, take tutoring, and of course, drill for hours with his team. It was the tutoring part that Grace had taken the most liberty with. In the lockup Kyle had guards and outside he had minders that followed him about and kept an eye on him. Those minders had grown lax over time because Kyle had shown no signs of becoming violent in weeks. In spite of having eaten someone at Twilight, so far he hadn't attacked anyone at home. Most often, once Kyle was in Grace's care, they would wander off to do something a lot more fun. Afterwards, Grace would walk Kyle back to the lockup with no fuss, saving the minders some work. So far, there hadn't been any trouble, Kyle was behaving well.

Grace had seen to it that on this particular day the minders had left Kyle alone with her. She was an observant girl and over the past weeks had made note of many secret places they could potentially slink off to for some private time alone with no one the wiser. This wouldn't be the first time they had snuck off together, but it would be the first time they would utterly alone with no one close by if anything should go wrong. She had no fear - nothing bad had happened before so why would it now?

Grace had that day selected a large storage closet in a secluded area. She had planned ahead and left some things there for their use – some candles, a present she had purchased and of course, some blankets.

Kyle, just as eager as she was to be alone together, gave her no fight. He went where she led, meek as a lamb. If he was surprised to be taken to so private a place as the storage closet he gave no sign. He certainly didn't protest one bit.

Once inside the room and alone, Grace put into action the first part of her plan, she gave him the present she had brought. Kyle opened the tiny box and was surprised to see a single golden stud earring, the ball carved into the shape of the head of a big cat, snarling. Not a lion, perhaps, but close. While Grace had many rings and other forms of jewelry, Kyle had never owned any such thing in his whole life. He understood that these past weeks she had been doing so much more than simply tutoring him, she was also helping him to get more in touch with the times he was living in. Grace had introduced Kyle to many new things he hadn't had the opportunity to experience with all of his time in captivity and lockups. Art and music, her favorite bands in particular. He enjoyed these things, not because he actually liked them but because they were hers.

Grooming had been big with her and she had done well with him, getting him to cut his hair shorter and keep his little chin beard neat and trimmed. This earring was just another attempt to help with his appearance.

Her smile was wide as she asked, "Do you like it?"

Kyle nodded, warmed by her thoughtfulness and eager to please her. It hadn't been a generic stud she had bought, the fact that she had given enough to consideration to purchase something more personal to him spoke volumes to his poor wounded heart.

"You know why I chose that, don't you?"

"Mrr! Kyle little lion," Kyle answered. While Grace hadn't known it, Skye had once named him Famayalin which meant Little Lion in Siskan. Even now, after all of the petty cruelties the Siskan had voiced in his direction, Skye still had a small hold on poor Kyle's soul and perhaps always would. Her choice pleased him because it reminded him of that earlier, happier period. Could he be happy again? Perhaps now he could.

Grace knew none of this of course and shook her head. "Do you remember that conversation we had a while back? How I had told you that I thought every person had some kind of animal spirit looking after them?"

Kyle nodded. He was besotted with her enough to forget little of what she told him. He often replayed their conversations in his mind in the small hours of the long empty night, alone in his cell.

"You know that I believe the goat is my animal totem," she reminded. She had good reason to think so, her horns and the ability to shift back and forth into goat form was hardly subtle. "Yours is the lion. Maybe not a full sized one, but a cougar perhaps."

Kyle smiled, liking that. The smaller shape was closer to the truth of his own body size, but the creature she offered him was no less fierce.

"You know mine is the ram. Since these animals have graced us with their favor we should do our best to honor them. I have a ram stud," she paused here to lift her hair and show him that she too, had a stud just like his, only in the shape of that ram. "..and now you have one, too. So? Will you let me pierce you?" she asked, a playful grin on her face.

Seeing her shining face at that moment, he would have agreed to anything, no matter how painful, just to please her. He could have cared less about animal totems or spirits, but he could deny her nothing. She looked so lovely in the candlelight, her slotted eyes so lovely to behold. "Mrr! Go ahead..."

Grace smiled even more at that, happy that he had given in with no resistance. She knew that he was wild but also a healer. Getting his ear pierced was something he probably wouldn't even feel, not compared to the horrors he had experienced in the past. While she didn't have access to his personal files, it had been no secret around the Complex that Kyle had been involved in a great many brutal fights, not the least of which had been the devastating Game, where so many of the mutants here had died. He was no stranger to pain.

Grace prepped her gear, cauterizing a large gauge sewing needle in the fire of the tiny candle. Being a healer this was probably unnecessary but it was still part of the ritual. She then had him lean forward and coming in close, carefully pressed the needle through his earlobe. As expected, he barely felt it, only giving one small soft whimper. Well, she guessed it might not have been a cry of pain at all, she was so very close now, the soft curve of one breast pressed tantalizingly close to his arm. She sometimes enjoyed this power, of holding a guy in suspense. She was no tease, however, she had every intent of giving Kyle exactly what he thought he might get. A reward for letting her do this to him. One they would both enjoy.

Grace knew that once Kyle was pierced she would have to hurry. Healers were best pierced with a gun that loaded the stud in at the same time but she had no such luxury here. Quick as a wink she pressed the stud into the hole she had made, having to press quite hard, the hole had almost closed that quickly.

"There," she said, pleased with her work. "Now you look great. You've done honor to your lion."

Kyle could hardly contain himself. She had been so close and then for one second, he had smelled his own blood from the hole she had made. He hadn't felt the pain, not even when she had been forced to jam the stud through his rapidly closing flesh. He had smelled more than just the blood of course, he could smell that the closer she had come to him the more she had wanted him. He could hardly keep himself from trembling at the thought of her.

It was more than he could stand and he boldly grasped at her, giving her a kiss no less sloppy than the one they had shared only days ago. She laughed a bit at his fire, happy to share it, but that joy didn't last. Being more lion than man, his clumsy human kisses quickly turned into feral bites, his clawed hands ripping at her clothes. He was on her fast, pushing her down on to her back and pinning her down with his body in a move so swift, she had no time to react. She had no idea he was capable of such violence. He had always been so gentle as they had kissed and groped. This was wholly unexpected.

"Kyle, wait!" she gasped, taken completely by surprise. She had no idea he would be this violent when so aroused. She batted uselessly against him with her fists, not realizing how hard and strong his lean body actually was. He had always seemed frail and weak to her but he was far from it. "We can do this, but don't hurt me!"

Her struggling only excited him further. He slashed at her clothes, ripping them open and scratching her belly, raising more blood. He ground his pelvis against her and she could feel how hard he was. To her horror, she felt his large teeth graze her neck.

Poor Grace, there was much she hadn't known. If she had, she would have thought twice about the recklessness of bringing Kyle to such an isolated place. If Remy had been aware of just what she had been up to, he would have told her that she couldn't have been any more unwise. Kyle had a long dark history, one that was locked away in files that none of the kids had access to. Some things were just too confidential to have out in the open, Remy didn't want the kids to be so fearful of Kyle that they would never trust him. He had hoped that having Kyle under constant supervision would keep the boy out of trouble. There was good reason for caution – Kyle not only had committed both murder and cannibalism, he also had a long history of violent rape, something it would have done poor Grace good to have known.

Grace liked Kyle a great deal, yes, and had wanted intimacy, but not rape. Cristof, though wild, had been a good and careful lover. He hadn't lost control on her like this, not even once. Grace had made an incorrect assumption that since both men were ferals, they would react and behave the same way when intimate with someone they cared about.

She should have known better about Kyle though, he was justifiably kept in prison after all and his personality was different from Cristof's, more wounded and damaged. She should have been better prepared but she had wanted this too badly and her fun loving impulses had won over her better sensibilities. She tried to protest further, but Kyle's heavy clawed hand clamped down on her throat choking her air. His talons pricked her skin again, digging in painfully. Enough was enough.

Grace had had plenty of time over the past months both on the streets and here, training with the Red Team, to learn as much as she could about her mutant abilities. She could not only shift at will between goat and human, but with enough concentration, could perform a partial shift if that was all that was needed. Well, she needed to now. Left with no choice, she shifted most of her upper body into goat form and rammed Kyle hard, shoving him away with great force, letting him get the full impact of her horns.

Grace's training paid off in spades. Kyle went flying backwards hard onto a metal shelving unit stacked with bottles of cleaner and soaps. The noise was as loud as the mess he made but it got the job done. It was painful but knocked some sense into him.

Kyle struggled clumsily up and out of the pile the avalanche of cleaning supplies had made with a startled grunt, confused by the half human, half animal he now saw in front of him. He made that squint of confusion again, but so far made no attempt to retaliate. She hadn't pissed him off enough for him to attack her back which was a good thing. This could have been a whole lot worse.

Seeing that Kyle was confused and not enraged, Grace shifted fully back into human form so he could recognize her face. She was hoping it would calm him down and make him realize that he had been too rough.

He did recognize her but failed to comprehend why she had done what she had. Instead he felt instantly betrayed. Was she just teasing him? Toying with him? Enraged now and in pain, he took a half crouched step forward, fangs in full view and a growl in his throat.

Remembering enough of her feral training, Grace knew she had to dominate him now or she would never be able to salvage this. She saw him come and boldly came met his advance, raising her hand as she snarled, "Back the fuck off, mister!"

It was a risk challenging him. He might lunge for her again, he was clearly still sexually excited even though he had been so violently tossed, but then she saw his face crumple as his eyes roamed over her, finally seeing what he had done. Her clothes were all ripped up, blood was oozing down her neck where bruises were already forming, her eyes wet with tears she was trying so hard to fight. Grace saw the look of devastation on his face, his shock and horror and utter remorse for what he had done and it nearly broke her heart. She called out to him but he burst from the closet, unable to look at her.


	4. Chapter 4

(Four)

In his holding cell in the Diamond, his back a wasteland of pure agony, Kyle howled for Grace, tears streaming from his eyes. Even through his screams, Kyle's thoughts were no farther from that horrible day with Grace than hers had been. It hadn't been said but he knew what his punishment for his actions that day would be - to be forever banished from her side.

His screaming mind was flashing back to that day, that moment. He saw himself as if from far away, of how he had shoved her down. He had surged with a red hot lust now unleashed, wanting her, forcing himself roughly between her legs and pinning her down with his more powerful body. Those terrible dark secrets that had been hidden away in his personnel files had jumped right to the fore, taking him over.

Kyle's sexual life was the stuff of nightmares. As a young teen and still a virgin, he had found himself alone and lost on the streets starving, forced to prostitute himself for money just to survive. He hadn't been born a homosexual, it was just the only way he could earn enough to eat. The men had come easily enough, paying him for what he could do with his mouth. Being so tainted and living in the worst parts of town, he had never had a woman so much as glance his way. As winter settled in, the colder weather meant less customers and Kyle's very existence was hanging by a thread. Frozen and half starved, he finally got desperate enough to consider to go beyond oral services to the grimy men who sought him out. Just his bad luck, it was a procurer from the Weapon X Program who found him first and it hadn't been sex the man had been after. He had come looking for someone no one would notice if they disappeared.

And disappear Kyle did, deep into that program. They had trained him in many things, but sexual etiquette hadn't been on their menu. It wasn't until Kyle had broken out for the first time of many that he finally had his first taste of women. He had broken into the house of a single woman looking for refuge and the sound of her screams brought out a new kind of need in the boy. He took her by force and then ripped her throat out, drinking her blood down and then feeding on what was left. That was how he had lost his virginity and the feeling of sweet release combined with the blood had never left his dark and corrupted soul.

Once he had felt those lovely sensations of joy and sated hunger, like a heroin addict, how he burned and burned, tormented by dark lusts that demanded they be fed again once more. He was never more than one or two steps away from complete insanity. Suffering under the harsh life of being a Weapon X plaything, Kyle escaped as many times as he could. Once outside of their fences he always made for the nearest town, needing to meet all those burning desires that howled at him constantly – the need to feed on steaming hot human flesh but also to see his fierce sexual urges put to rest. He broke into the first houses he came to and once there he slaughtered the adult males and children he found just to get them out of the way, saving the women for last. First he would unleash his darkest lusts on them and when he had reduced them to tatters, fed on their flesh, filling his belly.

Becoming a true sexual person in this horrific way meant that for Kyle, sex with women had always been about him dominant. They had been nothing more than prey and his to do with as he pleased. In his long life, he had never once taken a women gently or for her pleasure. One by one they had all gone down hard and losing to him no matter how hard they fought. He had been forced to submit to all the dominant males that had victimized him in the past, but with the women, the roles were reversed and he reveled in it. Finally having control over something instead of being the one tormented only made the sex sweeter and the meat all the more savory. Kyle managed to escape time and time again, needing to feed more than just his belly. The body count continued to mount until, disgusted with what Kyle had become, the Program finally locked him away for good.

Years later, when Jael discovered Kyle in his prison and stole him for his own use, the terrorist had wanted him for only one thing – to consume the prisoners that Jael no longer wanted to care for. Some of them had been women and they had fared no better than the ones Kyle had taken by surprise out in the world.

These things the X-men had only learned about during private therapy sessions after Kyle and Sabretooth had been taken into their custody when the Game came to its bloody conclusion. Notes were taken, files were made, but only people with special clearance could actually access them. Poor Grace would have done well to have known all these grisly things in advance, but alas, all of these dark and terrible secrets had been beyond her reach. Had she known, things in the storage closet might have gone very differently.

Once Kyle had Grace under his full control in the storage closet, she smelled like prey to him as all those previous women had and without Skye's empathic control, those darker appetites swamped him, overriding the deep affection he had once felt for her. He no longer saw her as a person who could be loved and cherished, he knew only desire. He clawed at her, scratching her arms as he shoved her down, the smell of her fear only driving him on.

He cared only now to have this need filled, it had been months since he had had any kind of intimacy with another person that didn't involve being beaten. He had been thinking about her all this time and now that he actually had her in his control, he was on fire. He just went red, perhaps not for blood, but for having this single burning desire finally quenched.

Once Grace had shifted to goat form and finally knocked Kyle back to his senses, he was locked in place with horror. He flashed back to his previous rapes and kills and was instantly filled with shame and self loathing at what he had almost done to this girl whom he had grown to love. It was just as well that she had been able to separate herself from him, he couldn't had lived with himself if he had been able to complete the red bloody act that had gone through his mind.

Well he needn't worry about it now, she would never go near him again. He had certainly seen to that, hadn't he? It was a simple mistake, his thinking he could ever have someone as good as her anyhow. How could he have been so stupid? It was too dangerous and he was far too ugly inside and out. What Romulus was doing to him was just. He deserved every moment of it.

It still made him sad. He hadn't felt this way about anyone since Skye and his time with Grace had been even better than that. He had no fear that she would ever try to mess with his head the way that Skye had, she didn't have his twisted sense of cruelty. She was sweet and kind. It had been nice, being with Grace as she made his world larger by the day. It was so nice not to feel lonely and empty all the time. He had her visits to look forward to. With Skye there had never been equality between them, Skye was his Master and Kyle had been under his harsh rule even as he was given enough love and pleasure to make it tolerable. Grace had made it clear early she was different, that they were on the same level, even friends. The reality was that if things had gone better, she would have been his first real lover.

But all of that was over now. Kyle's violent affections in the storage closet the previous day had been bad enough to see an end to what short a love affair they might have had, but now her knowing what he had allowed Skye to do to him would no doubt finish off what little they had once had. He felt dirty all over again, full of shame.

Kyle hadn't confessed to Grace his terrible crimes, though he certainly had been given opportunity enough, but he hadn't dared. It was bad enough that she had seen him feeding that one time on one of Jason Frost's guards when they had rescued the kids from Twilight. How could he look her in the eye and say it hadn't been the first time and it most likely wouldn't be the last?

Kyle also hadn't told her the truth that Skye, a rough master though he might have been, had at the same time done a lot for him. Skye's powerful empathy had begun to tame some of Kyle's darker sexual urges and that was part of what had bonded the pair so tightly. Skye had taught Kyle to make love, something significant. Of course Skye had used his powerful empathy to wear the boy down, wise and clever creature that he was, knowing he would ensnare Kyle with love instead of endless beatings. He had wanted Kyle fierce out in the field but not so much in the bedroom for play. Kyle wasn't stupid, he knew some of this and feared that without that control from an outside source, he might never be able to perform for another person's pleasure. Skye had calmed the beast and Kyle had learned what honest love could be, opening the door for Grace. But alas, Grace did not have the same ability as Skye to calm Kyle's inner beast and so as he feared, in the storage Kyle's dark passions had run unleashed to ruin everything.

Blissfully ignorant, Grace had not known what a huge step it had been for Kyle to even have kissed her so tenderly and with such feeling. Yes, he had lost it there at their last meeting, but it could have been so much worse for her. So much worse.

But now that chance was gone. She had seen his inner beast and been frightened away. She had also learned what a filthy dirty creature he was, a perversion. He was going to die now, his flesh melting away under Romulus' harsh treatment, but before he was gone, though, there was something he had needed her to know. "Grace! Grace! I didn't mean it, Grace! Mrr! Mrr! I'm so sorry! Grace! Oh, God... ! Grrraaaace...!" he shouted, not knowing if she even cared to listen to him or not.

Once Kyle had run out of words to say and the energy to express them, he sagged in his chains, one shoulder still all crooked and wrong from its earlier dislocation. Mewling now and miserable, his only frustration was that his body still stubbornly refused to die.

"Who the fuck is Grace?" Sabretooth asked, his head cocked to one side in confusion. He was still having trouble sorting this out. When no one answered his first question, he asked another, "He ain't actually prayin' is he?"

"I didn't take him for the praying sort," Daken replied, unsure himself what was really going on here. Nothing Kyle was doing today matched the information they had managed to gather on the boy. It was odd for Romulus to be this off base.

"That's because he isn't," came Romulus' own terse reply. His mind was racing as he considered his options. Was this something they could use? Was this Grace person here or was the cry rhetorical? The message could have been passed on easily to the proper recipient by those who were listening down in the holding cells. He couldn't assume that the girl herself was even here.

Throughout Kyle's ordeal, Daken had still been compliant enough to his Master's wishes and had continued to time the rate of Kyle's healing from being burned. The stopwatch ticked away and after a moment or two the slim Asian man dared enough to crouch near Kyle where he lay in his miserable slump. He risked injury to brush away some of the ash on his back, wanting to get a better look at what was really going on under the mess. The smell of Kyle's skin had already predicted that most of the damage was somewhat healed, a remarkable feat and enough to impress, but there was more than one way to check something. Satisfied that the test was officially over, he stopped the watch and showed Romulus the time.

"How remarkable," Romulus praised, glancing over at Sabretooth. "His recovery time is even better than yours."

"Maybe so," Victor grumbled, clearly miffed. "But I can still whup his ass in a fight without breaking a sweat."

"A challenge for another time," Romulus said, unimpressed with the larger man's bragging. "Too bad he seems so emotionally frail, but perhaps given time we can cure him of it. See that he's fed. Let him rest a while and then prepare him for shipment. We leave for the Sapphire in the morning."

"Yes, Master."

While Sabretooth turned for the door and brought in a cart from just outside, Romulus took a moment to crouch down to where Kyle lay. He had some final things to say. He grasped a fistful of Kyle's filthy hair and used it to raise the boy's head enough to make him look at him.

"Just so you know what is at stake here, I am going to tell you what I told Logan — all the true Lupine will soon be vying for the ultimate seat of power. My seat. These tests we have given you today have revealed your inheritance, though it comes from science and not by blood. It will be enough that others will seek you out and eliminate you from the running. What a glorious trial this will be, seeing who will actually have the mettle to best all the others. Alas for you, my young son, as much as you may be true Lupine now, clearly your emotional attachments are enough that you will surely perish in the long run. They make you weak. Perhaps it is for the best, seeing as how blood will always trump science.

"I could offer you some training if you wish, you are Lupine enough for that."

"Mrr... fuck you!" Kyle managed to gasp. His eyes were filled with tears and he could only just make out Romulus' face but it was one he wished never to see again. Why on earth would he wish to remain in the company of those who regarded him as trash? While it might be true that he had more in common with these Lupine than actual humans, he would never be able to truly find a place here. Every other Lupine here would surely target him for their own amusement if not advancement. Only a fool would desire such a thing and Kyle, while he was many things, was simply not that stupid. He would rather run and starve in the woods.

"Very well," Romulus answered gruffly, obviously already guessing that this was going to be the boy's answer. "Lower the chains so he can eat but leave him cuffed."

He rose at the same time that Sabretooth leaned down with a large silver bowl. The dish contained a generous helping of shredded, bright red, raw meat that glistened with juices and fat. While Kyle had earlier vowed to himself that he would refuse whatever they might offer him, he was at the moment too weak to remember it. The broken animal in him saw only nourishment and the moment the chains were lowered enough that he could eat, he lunged for it, face down in the bowl and gobbling it down without dignity, barely registering at first that the one thing that made this particular meal so enticing was the fact that the meat was nothing less than human. He consumed it faster than he could form the thought that this scrumptious meal could have been one of his teammates. It had been still warm, only minutes from having once been alive.

Well it was too late to do anything about it now. It was too late for a great many things. Kyle slumped once more, resting his face on the cool rough surface of his cell, closed his eyes and cared no more about anything.

"Toldja he'd eat it without thinking twice," Sabretooth joked harshly. "Fuckin' cannibal."

"Of course he would," Daken replied, smiling that dark smile that never seemed to reach his eyes. "He has much of you in him."

Victor growled at the insulting tone, but he it hadn't been a lie. He had been a cannibal himself long before Kyle had been born and had reveled in it without guilt. Still, he hadn't liked the way Daken had said it. Victor would have loved to fight over it – rank and file had always been so important to him – but he knew that Daken was Romulus' Second. At least for now. There would be time to change that later. Much later. He grunted and left, following Romulus out the door.

Daken lingered a minute, pausing to look over the work his Master had just completed. These burn tests had been the norm for some time and he had witnessed many, but this one had been just a little different. He couldn't quite put his finger on why this one had impressed him so, perhaps it had been the apology. It had been so heartfelt. And so tragic. He shut off the microphone and packed it away, that little job done, but loitered, still thoughtful.

Daken crouched down once more, his enhanced hearing telling him that Kyle did not sleep even though his eyes were closed. "You cannot have her, you know," he said, brushing his fingers lightly across the blacked ruin of Kyle's shoulders. It was a tender gesture in spite of the ugly words that came with it. Touching was a big deal with ferals, something Daken knew well. It was how they bonded and learned about each other. Daken had learned to use it well, for both good and for ill. His voice was as soft as that touch as he spoke wicked truths. "I know what you did. I saw her on the train. You bad little boy."

Kyle flinched just a little, betrayed by another traitorous surge of emotion. It might have been that Daken was fishing, but somehow Kyle didn't think so. Unfortunately he was in no position to do anything about it.

Daken smiled, his guess had been correct. Grace was the girl with the horns who had been mauled. That didn't mean he would pass that on to his Master, however. Some games he liked to play alone.

"I'll keep your little secret," he promised as if they were two old friends. "But you are a fool if you think that one of us could ever be embraced by one of them. You will kill her eventually, though perhaps that would be for the best. You wouldn't want to see what I would do to her, given the chance, once the fighting begins."

With that, he rose and left, leaving Kyle alone to his own cruel thoughts.

And Kyle had many. In all of the time he had spent with Grace he had never once considered the possibility of her ever becoming someone that could be used against him. He had hardly dared to dream of the kiss and the lovemaking, never mind that there could be something beyond even that. The thought of Daken killing her made the meal sit uneasily in his stomach. He had to do something to stop this.

_She's going to leave you anyway so I wouldn't worry_, came the next thought after that._ It's already done. She won't be around for him to hurt. _

So Kyle lay as he was, exhausted and done, still tasting the blood from his quick meal in his mouth. He would be a liar if he were to deny how much he had enjoyed it. It was really the only thing that could have satisfied him in his current condition. It was like heroin to an addict that has been making due with methadone for far too long, or a long time drunk with a non alcoholic beer. And why should he have refused it? He was in bad shape and certainly wouldn't be going home now, not after that very public confession of his perversion and weakness. Maybe Victor and these other freaks were not wrong to embrace their darker halves.

Still his enjoyment of the raw human flesh pissed him off just a little bit. Not just today but earlier he had made a promise to himself back at the Complex, when Grace had first made clear that she wanted him, that he would finally give up this particular dark appetite for good. He was breaking that vow as well. It was like being raped all over again, this being forced to go against what he hoped would be his better nature. He had been a circus freak on display here, being forced to perform for an unsympathetic audience. The microphone that had been used only proved this. Beaten and burned, the whole thing had been just for show. How could these guys have assumed that humiliating him like this again and again would somehow magically make him want to join their little group. What could be more ridiculous?

The meat, taboo as it might be, was helping poor Kyle to recover just the same. Sleep would have been better, but it eluded him. The echoes of Daken's dark promise would not leave him, all he could think about even now was Grace. The pain was bringing back the instructive teaching that Remy had so thoughtfully given him and he found himself drifting back to the fantasy of what could have been.

Oh, that first kiss. The one in the Solarium before things had gone so terribly wrong. Yes it had been clumsy on account of his stupid clunky teeth, but it had made him feel in ways he had no words for. Grace smells so good to him, like peaches and vanilla. Fuck it all, he still wanted her now in spite of everything.

With Grace, he had begun to see a powerful possibility – of a life without pain, without being yelled at to be better faster, whatever. Where he could simply be Kyle and no one else. It was fleeting but it had made him feel more alive than he had in years. He loved it, craved it, wanted more. Grace was the only one who ever looked at him square, like he wasn't some kind of freak. This, even after she had seen him eat someone at Twilight. More than that, she had wanted him as he was, not as what someone else thought he ought to be. Her attraction hadn't been forced and it had meant everything to him. With the team he had found his self esteem. His time on the team had been well spent and one of the few bright spots in his long dark life. Remy had never touched him, the first trainer to go hands off, the Thief could never have known what that one thing had meant. To be spoken to with real respect, not contempt. Inspired by these memories, he knew he had to overcome this, for better or for ill. He has to do his part to get the team out if he can, even if they leave them behind after.

Well, if he truly wanted this he was going to have to fight for it, even as depleted as he was. But he was going to have to come up with a plan quick, time was running out with what Romulus had said about their leaving in the morning.

**(break)**

Even as he was listening to Kyle being tormented and teased by Romulus, Remy was still watching Grace and thinking. He was still surprised that he had missed their paring off, knowing he shouldn't have. It wasn't like they hadn't had the opportunity. He knew that Grace was helping Kyle out and tutoring him, that Kyle had even been left alone in her care more than once. She had bought him an iPod and was getting him interested in music and movies, not just academics, something Remy had thought harmless enough. Kyle needed to be brought out into the larger world and since none of the other kids were all that interested in doing it who was he to complain that it was Grace? He just hadn't thought it had blossomed into anything other than friendship.

The fact that Remy knew Kyle was severely damaged and only one or two steps away from being a monster had a lot to do with his lack of foresight. He hadn't considered for a moment that any of the kids, Grace included, were reckless enough to even think about dating the guy. Of course knowing what he knew now, Remy could recall a recent instance that he now realized he had taken all the wrong way.

Just a few days before he had left for Logan's cabin there had been a particularly hard work out session where Kyle had really shone. They were working on their spatial awareness and dodging foam projectiles. Kyle had been swift and sure as he dodged them easily and let them pass him by, so graceful as he moved with feline elegance and making it look too easy when it was anything but. He was still painfully thin but all that leanness just showed off all what musculature he had in sharp relief, a long distance runner's dream.

Remy had noticed Grace watching Kyle move in all his feral glory and that it had her full attention. Remy knew the kids were young and had all their hormones running, it wasn't the first time he had noted one kid admiring another during practice. It was only natural given their age and proximity to one another. It didn't mean they would act on it, it was just teenaged fascination with the opposite sex. Remy could see in Grace's shine that seeing all that animal power and hard strength was giving her a bit of flush. It was a natural thing, nothing to argued about, but the trouble here was that Kyle was every bit that feral animal and it would be better if he didn't pick up on it. He wasn't much less than a dangerous criminal and a relationship with him was not to be encouraged.

Just as Remy feared, when Kyle finished his run and passed her by, he caught a whiff of her scent and knew that she was aroused. Remy didn't need it to know what was going on, but he caught sight of the dark crimson that ripped right through Kyle's shine, the color of sexual arousal. That dark red was tinged with black, though, an unhealthy darkness that hinted at a darker version of that appetite. Something dangerous that should not be indulged.

Kyle paused, his eyes meeting Grace's and they both stood still evaluating each other. Grace remained steadfast, unafraid of that powerful gaze when she certainly should have been. He was looking at her like she was something good to eat something that would have creeped out any of the other kids. It wasn't her fault, it was that she didn't know who Kyle really was. None of the kids truly did.

Remy didn't hesitate. He drew his whistle and gave it a sharp blast. Kyle turned to him obediently and when Gambit signaled him to run a few laps on the nearby track, the boy obeyed well enough. His first few strides away were slow, though, he was still feasting on that scent as any feral would, but it didn't hold him fast. Soon enough he was focused on the task at hand and his mind had moved on.

While Remy was very much aware that he had averted something that was potentially troublesome, none of the kids seemed to have picked up on any of it. It wasn't unusual for Remy to have Kyle run laps. They thought it was just a means of getting poor scrawny Kyle into some kind of shape. They didn't realize that with Gambit, it was all deliberate. Like an over playful puppy, it was best to run the boy a bit ragged, keeping him too tired to get into much trouble.

Gambit had figured that the incident was a one time thing, a random event. He couldn't have been more wrong, he realized now. Remy wasn't stupid, Kyle's apology today had been too heartfelt to be anything but in response to an attempt at intimacy gone wrong. A few misplaced words couldn't have brought out so much pain as he had never heard before in Kyle's voice like that. The real question was, just how long had the pair been intimate?

Remy had missed what was going on with his team and he had no good excuse for being out of touch like that, not one. It was his job to know these things, even if he chose not to interfere, so he could manage the group skillfully. It looked like he had fallen behind on more than just his stupid paperwork.

Gambit looked over his group now, inwardly pleased when he saw the other girls draw close to Grace, doing their best to make it not look like what it was. It wasn't that obvious, even behind him some of the boys had instinctively bunched together in the same way even if they didn't touch. It would be hard for anyone without a soul to not be upset after hearing Kyle cry out like that.

Remy knew that even if they got out of here all in one piece, the memory of all of this was going to be hard on the kids. It took a certain kind of person to volunteer for this kind of life. It wasn't like joining the Cub Scouts, it was more like the army. You gave up a lot in the service to others – time, pain, and in some cases the ability to have a stable family life. It was a team effort and you had to be able to risk everything for someone else and hope that at the same time they will risk all for you.

It was one thing to be taken by some random authority and questioned, bribed even, another to be tortured, but then at least three quarters of his team had come from Twilight and the hard times there. This wasn't exactly new to them. Kids should just be kids, out there and having fun, not having to go through stuff like this repeatedly. He made a quick mental promise to take them somewhere fun after this.

Remy had heard Romulus laying it all out to Kyle about the fight to come and it just made him furious. Is this what the whole meet was about? Remy grumbled to himself in complaint. Kyle had been trying so hard these days, enough that Remy was feeling especially protective of him. He could care less that Kyle had cannibalism in his past. What Skye had put him through had Remy directing his anger at the wayward Siskan, he placed no blame on Kyle for any of that and wasn't repulsed by the boy at all. All he could think about now was getting Kyle out of this and somewhere safe. Kyle didn't deserve any of this any more than he had deserved getting mind fucked by Skye. Kyle had enough on his plate without this.

The idea of a competition with only one winner sounded a lot like the Game that was just played out in Arizona, one where so many innocents had died to satisfy the power lusts of a few. This was getting sickening already. It also meant that many other ferals the X-men had never seen were probably going to come out of the woodwork now. Not just Kyle and Logan but any other ferals they had on their teams would have to be looked after.

That impacted Remy directly. He was married to Molly, Sabretooth's daughter. Of course that freak was sure to come for her, though perhaps Molly might be safe being female and this seemed to be a male dominated bunch. But what if she and Remy produced a feral son down the road like Logan had with Carter? They had longed for a big family and it was no secret that the twins they had now was just their idea of a good start. The more children they had the more risk they brought down on themselves. Just the thought of it pissed Gambit off, the thought that outside forces would impact his family planning like this. These freaks had to be put down or put off.

Remy was still holding on to Julien, but it was his other charge he was thinking of as he spoke to his group, "We gotta get Kyle outta dis before dey take him outta our reach."

"Do we?" Hercules questioned softly from behind him, keeping it down. "He's just as much of a monster as they are. Maybe he belongs with them."

Remy sighed, disappointed to hear it. He had been hoping for better leadership than this. He gave voice to what should have been obvious. "We don' leave nobody behind, even if we don' agree wit what dey done."

"You heard what he said. He hurt Grace."

"Bien sur, but until she say in what manner, he come home wit us. Innocent 'til proven guilty. We sort it all out later. We a team and it's time we started acting like it. Time to put all dose drills we run to use."

**(break)**

Remy and his young charges weren't the only ones subject to having to overhear poor Kyle's horrible and lengthy ordeal. Logan had also been listening to all this with an ever growing amount of pure rage. His perspectives on things were not exactly the same as Remy's however.

Logan was sympathetic to Kyle's plight, the kid didn't really deserve to be here though it didn't mean that Logan was absent surprise. Logan had made a kind of peace with the kid. They had forgiven each other for past brutalities, but Logan still thought the kid should have tried harder in life. As long as Kyle continued to lack the drive to reform himself, people were going to walk all over him time and time again. Jael had done so and even Skye who perhaps had used him the worst of all, torturing him with fantastic distortions of what real love could be, the cruelest weapon of all.

And poor Grace, what of her? How could Gambit have been so stupid to allow her to get so involved with a hopelessly broken feral monster like Kyle? Logan didn't believe for one minute that Remy hadn't known about it. Of course the Thief was always funny about things like love, always thinking that dangerous people like Kimble and Kyle still deserved love no matter the collateral damage that might happen along the way. Geez. If there ever was a sign that Remy shouldn't be in charge of teenaged kids there it was. He might have to drop a word or two to the folks back home in charge about this. This was getting out of hand.

How much trouble was it going to be to get Grace out of this mess? Logan had always admired her, her strong spirit and pluck. He had seen many kids come and go over the years but she had gotten in him quick. Maybe it had been her audacity in nabbing his jacket at Twilight, he had certainly never allowed any other kid to get away with that. It was a pride thing, you see, never letting a Gold Team jacket like that out of your hands. But he had been unable to push the issue even though he had seen her wear it from time to time in the Complex. His feelings for her were entirely platonic and he regarded her as some kind of kid sister, but damn she had gotten in fast. If anything were to happen to her, he would feel the loss, that was for sure. Maybe it was as simple as the fact that she wasn't one of those pathetic, "woe is me" kids that were always running around the place with a big chip on their shoulder. She certainly commanded more respect from him than Remy's kid who barely even tried fitting in.

On the other hand, outing Kyle in public that had earned Romulus the All Time Losers cake. There was bullying and then there was outright cruelty. Hearing Kyle break down like that afterwards just made the whole act unforgivable. Logan was very familiar with Kyle's sordid past, he had been through enough without this piled on. Romulus didn't know it but he had crossed one of Logan's lines that could never be ignored or permitted to fall into obscure history. He would be getting his comeuppance by day's end if Logan had his way. Wolverine's new sole purpose for living was not stopping until he made that insane fuck pay and pay dearly.

Not that Logan was even close to breaking out of here. As much as he tried testing his bonds he was held pretty fast. They had had him in mind when they designed this stupid fucking chair and it was doing its job, keeping him firmly in place.

Fuck Romulus for doing this to him, as if he had the right to fuck around with anyone he pleased. It was obvious the guy was completely mad. They say your brain goes with age so there you go. Being nearly immortal isn't all it's cracked up to be. Just the idea of someone like Romulus sitting back and controlling so many aspects of his own life was beyond maddening. Romulus claimed to have made sure the Program picked him up and had a hand in dumping all of the metal in him. He claimed to have made sure Itsu died to drag Logan back in when he had tried to run. Stole his kid, bloody from the womb and then bent his head around, turning him into some kind of terrorist loser.

Fuckin' Daken. Logan could only wonder just how many horrors Daken had endured at the hands of this man. No wonder he was such an asshole. Daken had a quiet eerie way about him that let Logan know he was as utterly mad as his surrogate father. The only real question was - could Daken even be salvaged? Was he even remotely recoverable? It wasn't like Remy was having great success with his own progeny and Julien wasn't a freak on the same scale. Lord have mercy.

Logan let slip a dark, ironic chuckle. Do they have support group meetings for this out in the world? Hey, my name is Logan and my son is an asshole. They could both go, him and Remy.

Of course thinking of assholes made Logan's poor tortured mind think back on what Charles Xavier had asked him to do on that last disastrous mission. Really, was it much different than anything Romulus was doing? Logan had been manipulated once more into doing someone else's dirty work. Granted Charles sent him out to do the quick kill, to be merciful death. There were worse fates than death as Logan knew all too well. It wasn't out of the question that if the government had gotten their hands on the girl that they would have locked her up in some lab and done God knows what to her all in the name of science. Or in the name of defense for that matter. Logan hadn't forgotten about those Stark-tech dirty bullets. Didn't Daken say they had manufactured Flush rounds already? Mutherfuckers!

Yes, Logan had done what Charles had asked of him even though the crippled wonder hadn't used so many words to demand it. Maybe that was what had made it all the worse, not knowing the full scope of the crime he was about to commit until he had seen that red scarf. He had enough shit to carry around in his heart without having to add another spoonful onto an already overloaded plate. It wasn't like the Professor was asking him to just go around the corner for a damn carton of milk. But that was Charles for you. A little light on the details at times.

Ever the obedient little dog, Logan had gone to that train station and once he located his target as per Charles' rough description and taken that poor child and given her the mercy Charles had asked of him, doing what needed to be done. He could still see it now as if watching a movie or looking back on some strange dream. It seemed unreal but it was anything but.

He had watched Marcus lead the girl through the station and once Marcus headed over to the men's room for a little pit stop Logan had taken advantage of opportunity. He followed the man in and pleased that Marcus had at least had the decency to leave the girl outside for him, took Marcus down in the bathroom, doing it quick and quiet.

Once that was done, Logan returned outside, happy that no one else had followed him in while he had been busy with Marcus. He then looked down at the pretty girl and used all of his limited charms to lure her back inside the mens' room with him. "That guy you came with, he asked me to fetch you."

"Okay," she replied easily enough, following him in without question. In that moment he got a quick snapshot of her life – kept away from others, never given a reason not to trust other people. In secreting her way as his secret weapon, Marcus had fostered her innocence and trust. It broke Logan's heart even as he knew it was a tool he could use. It worked beautifully and she came along easily enough. It was only when she saw Marcus on the floor that she began to suspect Logan might not be so safe to be with. "What's wrong with my daddy?"

Well, that made Logan's stomach clench. He knew by scent alone that Marcus was no real relation of hers and was nothing more than sick fuck mutant trash. He dragged the guy into the handicapped stall but his feet were still sticking out a little. "Don't worry, none, kiddo. He's just sleepin'."

She looked at Marcus lying there all crumpled but in the end, Logan's soothing voice kept her from alarm.

He had looked into her big blue eyes, so innocent. "Don't be afraid," he had whispered to her the same as he would have soothed one of his own daughters. It was a lie of course, in light of what he was about to do, but it worked, she calmed at once and smiled back at him, shattering his wicked murderer's heart into a million pieces.

"What's yer name, darlin'?" he had dared to ask.

"Mindy," she answered easily enough, charmed by him in some way.

"Well, Mindy, I have a secret to tell you, but you got to come up close."

She laughed and complied. He pulled her tight as if to hug her even as his lips brushed her tiny precious ear. Helpless in his big strong hands, he jerked her quick, snapping her neck in one quick break, Merciful Death indeed. He whispered roughly in her ear, "I'm sorry," even as he lowered her to the floor, touching her gently as she died, his eyes blurring with tears.

He knew it had needed to be done, the scent of her sickness was burning his nose and confirming all of Xavier's concerns. Logan's sensitive senses were as good as any dog's and told him things that people didn't know, that illnesses have smells. Logan couldn't help but wonder, how had Marcus been able to survive such an intense exposure? A quick pat down of the man with his hands helped him to discover the reason – those strange medical patches that Hank was looking over even now in the Lucky Dragon.

Mindy had blonde hair in a pony tail just like his own daughter, Jessie, often wore. Oh, his chest. So tight... How could he ever look her in the eyes again without seeing Mindy looking right back at him? Her little hat had fallen off onto the filthy floor, pom pom dirty now, discarded, like all she did was take it off and leave it like his kids did all the time, knowing mom would pick it up after them. Another twist of the knife.

Logan had no time for further reflection on his crime, he had to clean up the mess he had made. As quickly as he could he planted the explosive charges he had been given and left as fast as he could. It was important that no one discover his actions too soon before the devices went off.

And so it had been done, this horrible thing. Logan hadn't spoken to Charles since other than sending a quick text to let him know that he had done the deed. As for the effects of being so close to the one responsible for the Flush plague, Logan had the sniffles for the day, nothing more. His healing factor had taken care of the sickness in his body, but not the residual effects of the job on his poor battered mind.

Charles. Romulus. Fuck them both. He was done doing other people's dirty work. He was going to bust out of here and take care of Romulus and then after that? Well, he might have to take care of Charles, too. Not kill him, but yeah, he was going to give him a piece of his mind. Whatever bullshit Romulus had been going on about, he had been right about one thing – Logan had been chosen for that job because of who he was. It would be the last time.

And after that? Well, he was going to go and kiss his wife and hug his kids. He was going to hold Carter tight and make sure that when he grew up, he was nothing like Daken. Carter was a broody child, unlike the girls who were X- gene negative. He doesn't smile much and he had inherited his father's gruff temper. Was the decline into insanity inevitable amongst these so called Lupine as Romulus called the ferals of the world? Could it be prevented by having a normal, everyday childhood where he was wanted and accepted as he is? Or should Logan abandon Carter in the hopes of removing his own negative influence? Impossible. Logan was much too loyal to seriously consider such a thing. Then again, Daken was messed up quite nicely without ever having known him. Maybe it was better for him to stick around and give Carter a better way to deal with all of those animal energies. Logan's biggest fear was that Carter would let that anger consume him over time and his life will be a wreck like his own has been. He didn't want that for his son. He would love for Carter to become a doctor or a lawyer, something helpful to others. Anything to keep the blood at a distance. He didn't want the boy to deteriorate into a criminal and only a strong guiding hand could do that, preferably his own.

That was a solemn oath he was never going to break.

And that John guy? The pale white wonder who claimed to be his long lost brother? Well, he might have to see about him, too. And if all that turned out to be a lie, well, he would take care of that too, one way or another.

Of course he would have to get out of here first. Details, details.

Logan paused from his thoughts as he began to hear some scratching sounds. His head snapped to his left when he heard the metal clink of a vent panel falling open near to the floor. He wasn't sure what to expect but was surprised when he next saw a slinky white rat slither out and then sit back on its haunches peering up at him. What followed was even weirder – a tiny girl, no bigger than a couple of feet crawled out. He barely had time to note that she carried what looked like a screw driver in her hands, he was too busy greedily taking in the Red Team uniform she had on. It wasn't as sleek as her teammates were because it was in Barbie doll form and had probably taken some skill to assemble. Still it was a welcome sight.

His diminutive guest brushed cobwebs from her blonde, punked out hair and peered up at him before wisecracking, "Hey, Mister Logan. Did you miss us?"

To be continued in Making the Grade.


End file.
